


Trapped

by violaeade



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 09:39:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2768405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violaeade/pseuds/violaeade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Question: what if Finn and Bellamy were captured and taken to Mount Weather with the rest of the 48? Answer: chaos ensues</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Mount Weather

**Author's Note:**

> alright so this is my first time posting something with more than one chapter and i'm gonna see how it goes! let me know if you think this is worth continuing, and whether or not you like it! also, i promise there will be bellarke. just hold on folks

Clarke sits on the bed, absently running her hands over the worn, but soft fabric. It’s been a few months since she was in such a secure location, and it’s hard for her to accept that she doesn’t need to be planning out the hunting schedule or making preparations for winter. She’s jiggling her leg, a nervous tick that she usually fights hard to hide, but she’s too wrapped up in her own head to remind herself to stop. There’s only one thing Clarke can think about, despite the luxury and stability of Mount Weather:

 _Something doesn’t feel right._  

It’s only been a couple hours since she was allowed into the dorms after her stunt with Mia, and everyone else is eating in the cafeteria. Monty and Jasper asked Clarke to go with them, but she could see the uneasiness in their eyes around her, or in Jasper’s, at least. She attacked an innocent person, and jeopardized what could be this group’s salvation: they had every right to be mad at her. And yet, Clarke can’t find the willpower to apologize for what she did. She can’t shake the feeling that things aren’t as perfect as they seem here in Mount Weather, and she promises herself she won’t rest until she figures out what's going on. She still feels responsible for these people: they trust her, and she owes it to them to keep them safe.

A sharp pang of guilt and grief shoots through Clarke as she starts thinking about keeping her people safe, because they didn’t use to be just _her_ people. They used to be _theirs._ Hers and Bellamy’s. But she abandoned him when the Grounders attacked, and almost certainly killed him when she started up the dropship. How could Bellamy have escaped from the blaze of fire that incinerated three hundred Grounders? 

Clarke rests her elbows on her knees and buries her face in her hands, trying to block out the last image she saw of Bellamy, bloody and bruised and breathing hard. He was fighting a Grounder, but he kept taking punches instead of giving them and Clarke was about to run over and help when the Grounder started to close in, and she made a choice. And she saved most of her people, and she knows it was the best option she had, but a small part of her regrets closing the doors on Bellamy, even if that meant damning everyone else. She takes a deep breath, her throat burning with the tears she’s fighting hard to stop, and she just lets herself miss Bellamy. He’d been by her side for so long now that his presence had become comforting. He was constant, and steady, and her partner. And she left him to die. Their eyes had met just before she closed the door, and he nodded at her. _Do it. Close the doors, Clarke._ He offered her one last weak, barely visible smirk, but it was all wrong because his lips were swollen from punches and his face was bloody and he was about to die.

Clarke’s sputtering out sobs now, her whole body shaking, and the words _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry_ are forming in the sobs. Her mind shifts from Bellamy to Finn, who was outside the dropship and fighting the Grounders, too. She let him die, too. And what about all the kids that were dying when the Grounders overran the camp? What if some had still been alive, and she burned them, too? How many people had Clarke killed, exactly? How many people had she failed?

She felt like she couldn’t breathe under the pile of bodies she had to carry with her, and the crushing weight of the guilt that came with them.

  

A few hours later, the group comes back from dinner to find Clarke still sitting on her bed, her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. Monty walks over and sits beside her, close enough that she can hear his breathing.

“I brought you back some dinner,” he says in a light voice that had somehow still sounds strained. He’s trying too hard to sound casual. “I hope you like chicken.”

She doesn’t respond for a second, giving herself a moment to compose herself, before sitting up straight and smiling faintly at her friend. “Thank you, Monty. I appreciate it.”

He hands her a small box and returns her smile. He eventually stands and puts a comforting hand on her shoulder before walking to his own bed. Clarke watches as he and Jasper start talking, and she can’t help but notice how happy they seem. They haven’t seen each other in a while, and everyone thought Monty was dead. The two of them are laughing and joking and soaking in the fact that they’re both alive and together and safe. 

Clarke has never felt more alone.

 *

Bellamy is about to lose his fucking mind. They’ve been locked up in some disturbingly white room for hours now, and no one has bothered to check on them yet. Bellamy used to feel stir crazy all the time on the Ark, but that hadn’t happened once yet on earth because he always had something he could be doing. Before today, anyways. He can’t stand the feeling that things are happening just outside the walls and he can’t do anything about it. He yells in frustration and clenches his hands into fists, almost willing to punch his way out.

“Just calm down, Bellamy,” Finn groans from the bed. His eyes are closed, but his forehead is creased in annoyance. “Someone will come by eventually. You yelling and stomping around isn’t helping anything.”

 “I’ll do what I damn well please, Collins.” Bellamy just wants to do something, and if the only thing he can do is fight with Finn, so be it.

“Why do you always have to be so combative?” Finn asks, his voice tight.

“Because being combative is better than being ignorant.”

Finn bolts upright, his eyes open wide. “When have I ever been ignorant?”

Bellamy barks a laugh. “How about that time you almost got Clarke killed on that bridge with Anya?”

“I was trying to help our camp!” Finn shouts, Bellamy finally getting a rise out of him. “It’s not ignorant to want to try and find peace instead of slaughtering each other!”

“And look how well that turned out.” Bellamy and Finn stare at each other, noticing the charred clothes and blood and bruises that cover their bodies. Their knuckles are raw and stiff from the blows they gave, and their bodies are sore from the blows they received. Peace was definitely not achieved.

“None of this was _my_ fault,” Finn growls. “You’re not allowed to blame me for bringing on a war when I tried to make peace.” Finn is now standing face to face with Bellamy, and pushes hard on his chest. “ _You’re_ the one who brought guns and started shooting. 

Bellamy pushes Finn back. “Yeah? And if I hadn’t, they would’ve killed you and Clarke, and probably would’ve wiped out the rest of camp by now. You don’t get to say shit about my choices.”

“Then you don’t get to say shit about mine!”

They lock eyes, almost ready to start swinging at each other, but they snap out of it when they hear footsteps outside the door. They’re eyes widen and they’re suddenly alert, ready to face whatever is starting to fiddle with the lock on the door.

Bellamy motions for Finn to stand behind the doorjamb, on the side that the door will swing open. The door’ll hide him when someone enters. Finn rushes over and positions himself, squeezing his hands into fists. Bellamy forces himself to relax a little, exhaling deeply and keeping his eyes trained on the door. The lock opens, and the knob starts to turn.

An old man in a tattered suit walks in all by himself, with no weapons and no guards.

Before Bellamy has a chance to say anything, the man says, “Please tell your friend that if he’s planning on attacking me from behind the door, then he’ll be locked up in this room a lot longer than a couple hours.”

Bellamy sets his jaw, considering just attacking this guy himself, but he carries himself like he’s in charge and Bellamy needs to play this smart. It might not be smart to attack the man in front of him.

Finn sheepishly walks out from behind the door, but his face is hard and he looks ready to attack at any second if necessary.

“I know how this looks,” the man continues, “but I can assure you, we mean no harm.”

“I find that a little hard to believe,” Bellamy says.

“My name is President Wallace,” the man says and grabs his hands behind his back, keeping his posture stiff. “I have been the president here for almost thirty years now, and I’m sure you’ll understand that I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the safety of my people. That’s why we had to keep you in quarantine for a while.

“Where is here, exactly?” Finn asks.

President Wallace smiles sadly. “Mount Weather, of course.”


	2. What's the Deal with Mount Weather?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to everyone who left their input on the last chapter!!! it really encourages me to write more, and faster if possible. you're all super sweet :* anyways, i hope you enjoy this chapter, too--i have so many ideas for the future of this fanfic, and i hope you all want to keep reading!

“So you’re telling me that the rest of our people are in this building right now, and you won’t let us see them?”

 Bellamy is still angry, even though he can see the logic behind Wallace’s quarantine. What he can’t seem to do is stop himself from wondering who is alive and safe right now, and who is dead and rotting with the charred ashes of the Grounders. He tortures himself as faces flash in his mind and he thinks about the last time he saw each one, and the anxious feeling in his chest just gets worse. Bellamy couldn’t protect his people when he needed to, and he has no idea who he’s even failed.

One face in particular keeps popping up: Clarke’s. He knew she’d gotten inside the safety of the dropship, but what if she hadn’t complied with Mountain Men capture? Clarke wouldn’t just let other people kidnap all the people she worked so hard to keep safe. Unless she hadn’t been conscious, Bellamy knows Clarke would have fought back. Just like he and Finn did, until they got gassed. Bellamy knows in his mind that if the Mountain Men used sleep gas on two unarmed boys in the woods, they most likely gassed everyone else, too. But in his heart, Bellamy couldn’t beat down the panic and worry for Clarke.

President Wallace smoothes his suit. “Yes, that’s what I am telling you. In a few days, if everything checks out, you’ll both be cleared to see them.”

Bellamy leans back in his chair, rubbing his face with his hands. He’s exhausted. He hasn’t sleep, really, since before the Grounder attack, and every moment since has been consumed with worry. He’s just so damn tired, and all he wants to do is lie down, but the President wants to talk for some reason, and he’s not stupid enough to ignore that.

Finn looks like he’s on the verge of collapse. His eyes are droopy, he’s hunched over the table they’re sitting at, and he’s breathing loudly from his wide-open mouth. President Wallace doesn’t look too alert either, and there are deep, dark circles under his eyes that suggest he’s never gotten a full night of sleep. And yet, the three are still talking.

“Can you at least answer a few questions about our people?” Finn asks, his voice heavy.

President Wallace considers this. “Depends on the questions, I suppose.”

Finn swallows hard before he asks, “How many are alive?” Bellamy holds his breath.

“Forty-eight,” Wallace says. “So including the two of you, fifty people survived your altercation with the indigenous.”

Bellamy feels relief and shame all at once. Forty eight people is a lot, considering how many Grounders were at the dropship that night; on the other hand, fifty people is only half of those that came down from the Ark. He’s failed half of his people. _Half._

Finn wastes no time when he demands, “Is Clarke Griffin here?”

Bellamy starts a little at the ferocity in Finn’s voice. He’s heard that fire before, but never really from Finn. It doesn’t sit well with Bellamy that it was the mention of Clarke that animated Finn, and he doesn’t really know why. It’s not like he hadn’t figured out that Clarke and Spacewalker were close, or at least had been at some point, but Bellamy’s never really trusted Finn one hundred percent, so he can’t see why Clarke would.

President Wallace keeps his face completely still, giving no indication whatsoever what his answer will be. “I’m sorry, I haven’t been able to learn everyone’s names yet. I don’t know of any Clarke Griffins.”

Bellamy clenches his hands into fists as Finn nods tightly.

There’s a small pause in conversation as they both think about Clarke, and what it would mean if she had died. Bellamy knows he couldn’t handle the burden of being a leader all by himself, not after becoming so dependent on Clarke by his side. He feels a sharp pang in his chest and he realizes just how much he misses her right now.

He clears his throat. “Why did you bring everyone here? 

It’s at this moment that Bellamy notices the first fissure in the President’s cool exterior: he bites his lip anxiously, then quickly stops himself and lifts his chin. But Bellamy saw the Wallace crack, and all of a sudden he feels small in the room with just him, Finn, and the President. There’s a reason his people were brought to Mount Weather, and the President is uneasy about it.

President Wallace manages to force a smile. “When we noticed your people were here, fighting and dying in battles with the indigenous, we knew we needed to help. 

“You couldn’t have showed up two days earlier? Before the Grounders attacked?” Finn snarls, his jaw tight.

“I’m very sorry, but we did not see anything on our feeds until during the battle. Our technology is very outdated, you see.” Bellamy doesn’t know how, but he can feel that the President is lying.

President Wallace stands and waits for Bellamy and Finn to do the same. “Well, gentlemen, I have other business to attend to. I will be back within a few days, and hopefully we can discuss your discharge from solitary.”

He gives them each a curt nod before turning and leaving, and locking the door behind him.

Bellamy turns to Finn and says, “We cannot stay in this room.” 

*

Clarke watches Jasper and Maya flirt on the other end of the table. She’s inadvertently narrowing her eyes as Maya laughs and Jasper grins and everyone else just keeps on eating breakfast like it’s nothing. Clarke finds herself staring at the bandage on Maya’s neck, the one she needed after Clarke pressed a broken piece of glass to her throat when she escaped isolation. There’s a blossom of rusty red on the bandage, and Clarke can’t help but feel guilty for attacking Maya. Something about Maya doesn’t sit quite right with Clarke, but she doesn’t know what it is.

Monty elbows Clarke and clears his throat. “Uh, Clarke? You’re completely staring. At least try and be sneaky.”

 “I just don’t see how she and Jasper got so close so fast,” she thinks out loud. “We’ve literally been here two days.”

 Monty shrugs. “I guess they’re able to out of necessity, you know?” When Clarke doesn’t respond, Monty continues, “It’s like you and Bellamy; you got close pretty quickly because you needed to work together to survive.”

Clarke scrunches up her nose. “I don’t know about you, but that—” she motions towards Jasper and Maya, who are now kissing, “—doesn’t seem to be all about _survival_.” Still, no one else at the table seems to care.

Monty holds Clarke’s gaze as he says, “Sometimes, you need other people to help you get through the day. If Maya and Jasper need to make out at breakfast when everyone else is trying to eat, well, I would advise them to switch locations, but do whatever they need to do to stay positive.”

Clarke laughs a little, but Monty’s words leave a bitter taste in her mouth. Why is she being so judgmental? She shouldn’t automatically hate Maya just because she’s only been able to live in Mount Weather for her whole life. But Clarke automatically distrusts Mount Weather and everything in it, and that seems to include Maya. 

Clarke shakes her head and stands up, grabbing her plate even though she barely ate anything. Monty turns. “Where’re you going?”

“I think I need a walk,” Clarke say, a little wistful. She wants to wander through the woods and clear her head with all the fresh air and trees and plants, but instead she has solid, concrete walls to stare at.

Monty stands, too. “Want some company?”

She smiles, relieved even though she didn’t realize she hadn’t wanted to be alone until he offered. “That’d be great.”

As the two start to walk away from the table, Jasper notices and calls to Monty, “Hey, bro, what’s going on?”

Monty looks back and waves at his friend while saying, “I’m just gonna go hang with Clarke for a bit. 

Jasper nods, accepting this, and turns back to Maya, who is eyeing Clarke with coldness in her eye Clarke’s never seen before. Clarke turns away, picking at her fingernails and thinking about Maya and the people at Mount Weather. 

She and Monty try and walk around the main level of the mountain, but they quickly realize there’s no use because everyone just stares at them. There’s no peace, and some of the looks they get are scary—people either look at them like a disease or a cure, and there’s either adoration or hatred in their eyes. So they decide to move to the lower levels, where nobody just walks around. This is the place where there are gigantic, sealed doors that protect the inhabitants of Mount Weather from the outside. Clarke presses her hand to one of the doors and pushes, hard, against it. She knows it’s obviously not going to budge, but she feels so suffocated thinking about how she’s trapped in this Mountain. She’s so far away from all the beauty the Ark survivors have longed to see for so long, and she can barely stand it.

 “I hate this place,” Clarke says, quietly at first, but then repeats herself and practically yells. “I hate this place!”

 Monty shoves his hands in the pockets of the new jeans they gave him, and looks at the ground. “Do you really? Isn’t it a lot better than the basic survival we had outside?”

 Clarke shakes her head sharply. “No. It’s not.”

 Monty lets this sit in the air for a minute before asking, “Why?”

 Clarke doesn’t really have a great answer, and she’s trying to think of something profound and defiant to say, but all she can focus on is the memory of the sound of her feet crunching on leaves and the feel of dirt between her fingers and the sun burning her cheeks and the rain drenching her clothes. The ground may be dangerous and painful and hard, but it was free and beautiful. Mount Weather was safe and comfortable, but the price was confinement. And she hated it.

 “I…” she begins, still struggling to find words that wouldn’t sound whiny. She thinks about the Mountain Men, how they locked her up when she was captured and how she escaped, and she thinks about the looks she gets from Maya and everyone else. She realizes with a sinking feeling that she hates Mount Weather for more than just its walls: she doesn’t feel safe.

 “I don’t trust the people in charge here,” she finally says. “I don’t understand why they captured us in the first place, and I don’t understand why they waited so long. Something’s up.”

 Monty doesn’t respond for a moment and seems to be contemplating what Clarke has said. He purses his lips and frowns hard at the floor, and Clarke just watches. Finally, he looks back up to her, and just as he opens his mouth to respond, a siren starts to blare. It’s so loud it feels like it slices right through the air, and both Clarke and Monty press their hands to their ears. In the lower level of the Mountain, the siren reverberates off the walls and makes it sound even louder.

 “What is going on?” Clarke yells as loud as she can, but she doesn’t know if Monty even hear her.

 The siren’s noise changes, and a mechanical voice is repeating over and over again, “Security breach, security breach, security breach…”


	3. That Damn Siren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since i've just started winter break, i've already had more time to write this lovely chapter. i'm sorry it's so long (it's longer than i even intended it to be!) but i hope you enjoy! i love hearing what you guys think, so feel free to leave a comment if you want :) thanks!!

They start yelling when they hear footsteps outside the door.

“You know what, Bellamy?” Finn spits. “You don’t scare me. You’re just a bully with a savior complex and a good shot.”

Bellamy raises his voice and shouts, “Listen up, Collins, because I’m only gonna say this once: I think of you like the old bear shit dried to the bottom of my boot—inconvenient and annoying, but now worth the trouble of getting rid of. I don’t care what you think.”

“Of course you don’t, because all you wanna do is kill, kill, kill and then think about the repercussions later. You never listen to anyone, and it makes you a bad leader!”

Bellamy flinches, the insult a little too realistic, but it manages to do the trick, because Bellamy can hear the lock on their door opening. A boy in a white coat opens the door slowly, looking worried.

“Is everything okay in here?” he asks, his voice low and apprehensive.

Finn and Bellamy ignore him.

“Even if I am a bad leader, at least I’m not a coward like you!” Bellamy shoots back, and Finn takes the first swing.

They tried practicing to make it look like Finn hit Bellamy when he really didn’t, but they didn’t want to risk blowing their cover over one or two punches to the face. The impact of Finn’s fist is worse than any other punch Bellamy’s experienced (and he’s been punched a lot) because he was anticipating it. He goes down, stumbling to one knee and holding his cheek. He can already feel a bruise forming on his cheek, and he stretches his jaw to work through the pain. The boy in the white coat is wide eyed and looks like he wants to run away, but can’t stop staring at Bellamy.

Finn is panting, staring at his closed fist. “That felt good,” he says, a faint smile on his lips. Bellamy’s having a hard time deciding whether or not he’s still acting.

Without any warning, Bellamy leaps up and tackles Finn, who goes down hard. He hits his head on the concrete floor and grunts, but keeps up with the show. The boys are punching and thrashing and kicking and groaning and panting, and the boy in the white coat edges further and further into the room. He’s yelling and frantically pleading with them to stop fighting. When Bellamy gives Finn a hard uppercut and Finn goes limp for a second, Bellamy feels the boy’s hands on his arm, pulling him off Finn’s body.

“Stop!” he’s yelling. “You’re killing him!” The panic in his voice is obvious.

Bellamy turns on the boy and, without making eye contact, punches him square in the face. Bellamy hits a lot harder this time than when he was hitting Finn, and the boy collapses, out cold. Bellamy notices how young the boy looks: he’s still got some baby fat in his cheeks, there’s acne dotting his face, and there are no lines or wrinkles in his skin. There is a welt forming on his face, though.

Bellamy is gasping for air, his hands on his knees, and just listens to Finn groaning on the floor for a second. His knuckles are already sore and raw, and he can feel the rest of his body complaining about the abuse. Bellamy takes a moment to look at his knuckles, which are sticky with a little of Finn’s blood.

“Bellamy, that fucking hurt,” Finn moans from the floor.

“Sorry, man.” Bellamy turns and offers a hand to Finn to help him up. Finn accepts the offer. They look each other in the eyes, both staring at the new bruises and blood running from their noses, but knowing it was worth it if they can escape. It may not have been the best plan ever, but all their other attempts failed. They tried breaking down the metal piece covering the smashed window on the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Bellamy couldn’t help but think of why they’d need a cover for the window, and how it got broken in the first place. Had someone already broken out? But it didn’t matter, because this plan was working: the attendant was passed out, and the door was unlocked.

Bellamy smiles grimly. “Let’s find our people.”

They manage to get to the end of the hallway without detection. The problem is that the only exit is a sealed door with a fingerprint sensory pad to unlock it, and no amount of banging and kicking makes any difference. Both search the hallway, frantically looking for something to pry open the doors with.

“This is so stupid,” Finn complains, kicking over a box full of syringes. “How the hell are we gonna get out of here?”

“We’ll think of something,” Bellamy growls as he opens cupboard after cupboard in one of the unlocked rooms in the hall. “There’s gotta be something we can use.”

“Even if there is, there’s no guarantee it’s going to be able to pry the doors open!”

“Shut your mouth and keep looking.”

They’re so wrapped up in their search that they almost forget about the boy with useable fingerprints passed out in the other room. Almost.

Bellamy grabs Finn’s arm, the idea forming in his head. “We’re fucking morons,” he mutters, shaking his head.

Finn waits for an explanation, but Bellamy just sprints back to the other room, yelling for Finn to follow. The boy is still unconscious on the floor, and Bellamy wastes no time. He grabs the boy, hoists him over his shoulder, and starts to walk slowly back to the doorway. Finn meets Bellamy at the doorway, and instantly understands the plan.

“Smart,” Finn says coolly as he tries to help Bellamy carry the kid.

“I do what I can,” Bellamy grunts under the weight of the person on his back.

They try and walk as quickly as they can back to the door, but Bellamy isn’t exactly speedy with such a burden on his back, and it takes longer than they’d like. When they reach the door, Bellamy has to resist the urge to just drop the boy on the floor and relieve the tightness in his back. Finn starts to try and maneuver the boy off his back, but he’s being too gentle and it’s taking too long.

“Finn,” Bellamy says through gritted teeth. “Hurry the hell up.”

“I’m trying,” Finn tells him. “I don’t wanna hurt him.”

“He’s gonna be hurt if I collapse and he goes down with me.”

“Okay, okay.”

Eventually, Finn manages to slide the boy off Bellamy’s back and keeps him propped up while Bellamy moves to set up the fingerprint scanner.

“Bring him over here, I’ll help you press his finger to the scanner,” Bellamy says, preoccupied.

“Bellamy, he’s waking up!” Finn whispers fiercely.

Sure enough, the boy’s eyelids are starting to flutter, and he starts to groan. The boys are stuck watching the attendant bring himself back into consciousness, and they don’t even realize they’re wasting precious time.

Bellamy snaps out of it first and barks, “Bring him over here, now. We need to get out of here.”

Finn obeys, but then gasps. Bellamy turns around. “What?”

Finn looks up with fresh blood on his hands. “He’s bleeding. He must’ve hit his head when he fell.”

“Shit,” Bellamy mutters under his breath. He didn’t want to seriously hurt anyone here, let alone a kid just doing his job. He bites the inside of his cheek and says, “Just—just get him to the door. He’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that,” Finn accuses. But he doesn’t offer any better suggestions, so Bellamy tries to ignore him. After all, the kid is still stirring. He could wake up any second and be completely fine, just a little sore.

Finn finishes getting the kid into place, and Bellamy grabs his hand to press his finger to the scanner. His hand is warm, Bellamy notices, and is pretty small compared to Bellamy’s own hand. He swallows hard, and tries not to think about the fact that this kid is about as old as all the kids from the Ark.

The scanner lights up green, and the sealed door slides open. Finn and Bellamy grin at each other, and Finn carefully puts the kid on the ground. Bellamy steps through the door and takes a few steps down the hall before he realizes Finn isn’t following.

“You coming, Collins?” Bellamy calls back.

“Should we just leave him here?” he asks Bellamy, ignoring his question.

Bellamy nods. “Yeah. Someone will find him eventually.” Finn starts to walk towards Bellamy, but still looks uneasy.

He sounds cautious as he says, “Maybe…maybe we should hit him again. To make sure he stays unconscious.”

“What?” Bellamy roars. “He’s already bleeding, and I don’t think it’d be safe to smack him around some more.”

Finn licks his lips and looks Bellamy straight in the eyes. “If he wakes up soon, he might set off an alarm. Then what would we do?”

Bellamy stares at Finn, looking for the old peacekeeper that used to fight for humanity rather than survival. Bellamy used to be able to see compassion and fear in his eyes, but now all he sees is stony resolution. Finn sets his jaw, looking determined to do what he needs to do. Bellamy is starting to see a lot of himself in Finn, and he’s not sure if he likes what he’s seeing.

Bellamy sighs and shifts his weight. “You’re probably right. We’ll go back and quickly—”

Before Bellamy can finish telling Finn to take care of the kid, an impossibly loud siren slices through the air. It’s wailing and loud and terrifying, because both Bellamy and Finn know it’s for them. Their eyes dart back to the spot they laid the kid down, and see that he’s gone. He’s standing shakily by the wall, his hand on a red lever labeled IN CASE OF EMERGENCY. He’s holding his head with the other hand, and he meets Bellamy’s angry gaze without flinching before the door closes and Finn and Bellamy are locked outside of the isolation wing.

“Oh, SHIT!” Bellamy yells and grabs Finn’s arm. “We need to get the hell out of here!” They start sprinting down the hall, and all around them, doors start to seal themselves shut. The entire mountain is putting itself on lockdown, and soon, they’ll be trapped somewhere, waiting for the Mountain Men to find them.

They get to the end of the hallway, already panting, and there’s only one door left open. It doesn’t have a fingerprint scanner, so it must take longer to seal itself. They waste no time and shove through the door, having absolutely no idea where it’ll lead them. They find themselves in a dimly lit staircase that only leads down. The siren is still blaring in the staircase, and they start rushing down the steps, hoping that there’s not a group of Mountain Men waiting for them on the next level. It only takes a minute to get the next door, and Finn tries to push it open, but it’s locked and his momentum slams him into the solid door.

“Ow! Godammit!” he yells and grabs his nose, which is already bleeding all over the place.

Bellamy manages to stop himself before he plows into the door himself, then takes a step back and evaluates the door. It’s just got a simple doorknob, which means there shouldn’t be any fancy system holding the door in place. It should be easy enough to break down. Bellamy starts to wildly and frantically kick at the door, aiming right for the spot above the doorknob. He grunting with the effort of each kick, but nothing is really happening. He can feel the door beginning to bend under his attack, but it isn’t going fast enough. He’s yelling at the door now, cursing it and screaming at it and pouring all his frustrations and anguish into each kick. Bellamy can hear Finn yelling behind him, but he doesn’t know what he’s saying, so Bellamy ignores him. Finally, the door starts to splinter, and after a few more kicks, Bellamy pushes the door enough off its hinges so that they can get through. Bellamy motions for Finn to follow him through the door, and ducks through, scratching himself on a piece of wood.

They find themselves in a long, empty hallway that feels more like a sewer without the sewage. There are endless gray, concrete walls, and no one around that they can see. Both boys are breathing hard, fear and lots of running making them pant. The alarm continues to scream, alerting the entire Mountain of their escape, and it seems even louder in this walled in hallway. He couldn’t tell before, but now he can hear words within the siren: “Security breach, security breach, security breach…”

Bellamy looks at Finn, whose face and shirt are an absolute bloody mess. The bleeding seems to have stopped, but Finn’s nose is swollen and he looks miserable. There’s still a grim determination on his features, and Bellamy knows that Finn will keep moving until they’re safe or captured. With a tired sigh, Bellamy realizes there’s no way they won’t be found. With the entire Mountain locked down, the Mountain Men will eventually be able to comb through every square inch of the place, and even if they don’t find Bellamy and Finn, they’ll starve if they just stay hidden. Bellamy swallows hard and decides not to dwell on these thoughts, and instead jerks his head to the side, telling Finn they should get moving again. Finn nods, and they start sprinting down the hall to the left.

They run for what feels like hours, and because the hallway is so long and unchanging, it feels like they’re making no progress. The walls look the exact same, and Bellamy’s beginning to wonder if they could just keep running forever when a corner comes into view.

He rounds the bend and immediately plows into someone. He and the other person both fall over, and Bellamy falls hard onto his back, which immediately knocks the breath right out of him. He’s still sore from his “fight” with Finn, and his body groans in protest. The person next to him is already starting to struggle to their feet, so Bellamy forces himself to leap up, his heart racing. It’s gotta be one of the Mountain Men, which means he and Finn need to get out of there as fast as possible.

Bellamy is standing now, and he turns to Finn, telling him with his eyes to start running, but he notices that Finn is staring at something. Bellamy turns and sees Monty staring back at Bellamy with wide eyes. Bellamy wonders, _What the hell? What’s Monty doing down here?_

Then everything clicks, and Bellamy looks back to the spot where the other person had been laying a second ago, and sees Clarke. She’s standing now and her eyes are trained on Bellamy. Her hands are clenched at her sides, and there are tears shining in her eyes.

She opens her mouth and says something, but Bellamy can’t hear her over the enduring sirens. Clarke looks like she’s about to start crying and shakes her head, but Bellamy barely even notices because he’s taking a few quick steps towards her and then throws his arms around her in the tightest hug he’s ever given. She stands motionless for a second before she puts her arms around Bellamy, too, and buries her face in the crook of his neck. Bellamy can feel her shaking a little.

“Are you real?” Clarke asks, and Bellamy can just barely hear her with her mouth next to his ear.

“I’m real,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut and smiling.

He can hear her laughing, and then her arms tighten around him and she stands on her toes to bring herself deeper into the hug. “I thought you were dead!” she cries, the relief in her voice so obvious that Bellamy’s heart swells.

“You can’t get rid of me that easy, Clarke,” he tells her, and he feels her laugh against him again.

They pull out of the hug, both smiling and feeling lighter than they have in months. Clarke looks past Bellamy’s shoulder and sees Finn, and pushes past Bellamy to give Finn a hug, too. Bellamy turns and catches the angry look on Finn’s face before Clarke wraps her arms around his neck, and his expression softens. But Bellamy saw the look, and he knows it was directed at him. Clarke pulls herself out of the hug quickly and gives Finn a small smile before she frowns at the blood she hadn’t seen on him before. She touches his cheek, concern creating a crease in her forehead, but Finn waves her concern away. She nods and turns back to the rest of the group. Everyone stares at each other for a few seconds, just listening to the deafening scream of the sirens as they think about what to do next. 


	4. Critical Condition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the next chapter!! this fic is so fun to write, so i hope you're having fun reading! tell me what you think about this chapter, and maybe even leave your predictions for later events?

“What the hell are we supposed to do now?” Finn screams, trying to be heard over the sirens.

Nobody really has any ideas, and they all wait for someone else to suggest something.

Bellamy clears his throat and says, “I guess we keep running.”

“Wait,” Monty shouts and cups his hands around his mouth in an effort to be heard better. “What if we don’t run? What if we hand ourselves over to the President?”

Bellamy gives Monty a pointed look and growls, “We assaulted someone to escape. There’s no way they’ll just let us off easy if we turn ourselves in!”

“Hear me out!” Monty yells back. “You were desperate. You needed to see who was alive, and you feel bad about hurting someone, so you’re turning yourselves in. You just want to be part of Mount Weather; you don’t want any trouble. You’ll grovel if you have to.”

Bellamy sets his jaw, trying to think of a better plan so he won’t have to grovel, but he’s coming up empty. Clarke crosses her arms over her chest, nodding.

“I think it’s the best plan we have,” she says.

“What if they just lock us up again?” Finn asks, looking unconvinced.

“They let me go after I assaulted someone to escape, too. I think you’ll be fine,” Clarke says.

Nobody has any other objections, so the four of them start walking back the way Clarke and Monty came. The sirens are still blaring, making conversation impossible, but nobody feels like talking anyways. They’re all just happy that the four of them are alive, and forty-six other people are, too.

Clarke and Bellamy walk beside each other and occasionally brush arms. Clarke keeps sneaking peaks of him, and she can feel him doing the same. She still can barely believe that he’s right beside her like he always used to be, and he’s not lying in the field with the Grounders, dead eyes staring at the stars for eternity. She’d been so sure he was dead that she thought she was hallucinating when she first saw him. But for some reason, when his arms went around her, she knew he was really there. She sighs to herself and practically begs whatever gods she can think of to let Bellamy and Finn stay out of isolation.

He steps closer for a moment and leans down to say something, his mouth accidentally bumping into her ear as they walk. Clarke feels electric; Bellamy’s mouth is so close to her face that she can hardly stand it. He mumbles a half-hearted apology for bumping into her.

“Do you think they’ll really just let us off the hook?” he asks, his breath warm and distracting on her skin.

“I do,” she tells him, and she mostly believes it. She’s like, seventy percent sure. “You were doing what you needed to do to survive. They understand how morally muddy survival can be.”

He nods, and exhales a small breath of relief before pulling away. They fall back into regular, silent steps. Clarke can feel eyes boring into the back of her head as she walks, and she glances behind her and sees Finn staring at her. He’s got an angry scowl on his face, but he looks surprised when she turns to meet his eyes, and the scowl fades into a blush. She bites her lip and turns back around, wondering why Finn looked so mad at her. Was he mad that she abandoned him at the dropship? Bellamy seems to have forgiven her, or maybe he’s just saving his anger for later. Clarke sighs and shakes her head, trying to banish the thoughts. If Finn’s mad at her, that’s something they can figure out another day.

They finally reach a door, which will lead them to the main level. Everyone hesitates in front of the door, knowing that there’s no going back once they get up the stairs. It’s one thing to talk about giving yourself up, but it’s another to actually do it. Clarke looks at Bellamy beside her, who must be a thousand times more anxious than she is. If the Mountain Men don’t have mercy, it won’t be Clarke that pays for it. She watches as Bellamy sets his jaw and stares hard at the door, as if he’s going to open the door with just his gaze. His arms are crossed over his chest, his feet are planted firmly on the ground, and yet she manages to see the fear he’s obviously trying to hide. She steps closer for a moment, nudging his arm with hers, and he visibly relaxes for a moment.

“Ready?” Finn asks, his voice taut.

“Ready.” Bellamy steps forward and shoves open the door. Nothing happens. There are no Mountain Men waiting to seize them, there’s just an empty staircase with sirens echoing off the walls.

It doesn’t take long for the four of them to make their way up the stairs, and it takes another moment of preparation before anyone can push open this door to the main level. Finn eventually does it, breathing hard and looking worried. The floor is empty, as the sirens have driven everybody back to their quarters, but the threat of capture is imminent. The Mountain Men could sweep by at any moment, and it would all be over. They all walk for a few minutes, quiet compared to the endless wails of the sirens, until they reach the end of the hall. All the doors are sealed, and there’s nowhere else to go.

“Now what?” Clarke asks. They all look at each other, waiting for someone to come up with a brilliant solution.

Monty sighs. “I guess we—” and suddenly, a door slides open and a dozen Mountain Men come rushing out, yelling commands and sounding angry.

The four of them put their hands up immediately, hearts all beating so fast that they can feel the blood pounding in their ears. None of them speak, but the Mountain Men grab their arms and shove them behind their backs to put them in rusty handcuffs. No one complains, either, not even when the Mountain Men tighten the cuffs until the metal is digging into their flesh, and blood starts to drip from their wrists.

The sirens cut out all of a sudden, and the silence seems to fill the room more than the sirens did. Everyone can hear each other breathing now, and it feels oddly intimate after the wall of isolation that came with the sirens. It feels eerily calm in the room, like nobody will dare to move until the President arrives.

Clarke finds Bellamy’s eyes through the throng of Mountain Men, and he’s gritting his teeth against the pain of the handcuffs. She nods at him, trying for comfort, and he nods back. She can’t help but recognize how reassuring it is to have someone to look to when she feels things spinning out of control. Bellamy offers comfort, just by being around.

The President walks into the room then, looking more ruffled than Clarke had ever seen him. His nostrils are flared and his hair is a mess, and he’s clutching his hands behind his back so tightly it’s like he’s restraining himself from losing control. He jerks his head, and two Mountain Men shove Finn and Bellamy towards him. He exhales loudly, and Clarke bites her lip. She didn’t think he’d look so intimidating.

“I don’t think you understand the severity of your actions,” he begins, his seething rage simmering just underneath his words. “Jackson, the boy you assaulted, is in critical condition. There’s a good chance he’s going to die.”

Clarke feels the air sucked right out of her lungs. Holy shit. If he dies, Bellamy and Finn are murderers to Mount Weather, and they’ll never be allowed to be free. And that’s a small inconvenience compared to the suffocating guilt they’ll feel if they kill an innocent kid. She looks over helplessly at Monty, praying he maybe has some idea of how to escape right now, but he’s just staring blankly at the wall, a lone tear trailing down his cheek.

Clarke looks to Finn, who has shut down. His eyebrows are furrowed, he’s focusing all his attention on the ground, and his jaw is locked tight. His shoulders look so tense Clarke doesn’t know how he’ll ever feel relaxed again. Finn finally pulls in a ragged breath and closes his eyes, trying to block off the guilt that is already threatening to destroy him.

She finally looks over at Bellamy and feels tears start to burn at the back of her throat. He already looks traumatized. His eyes are bloodshot, and his mouth is hanging open, and he’s pulling against the handcuffs to make the metal dig deeper into his flesh. Clarke knows that Bellamy understands the horrible guilt that comes with killing someone. It’s unbelievably scary even when it’s out of necessity or even mercy, like the death of Atom was. But this wasn’t merciful, or even out of necessity. This was a useless death, and she can see on Bellamy’s face that he understands all of this.

 _The kid’s not dead yet, Clarke,_ she reminds herself. _Stop acting like everyone’s doomed._

She clears her throat and steps forward. “Mr. President, ow—” She flinches in pain as the Mountain Man restraining her pulls her backwards. “—can you tell me what’s going on with Jackson? Medically?”

President Wallace seems to have rehearsed this bit, as his voice is even and relatively calm. “He was found, unconscious in a pool of blood, with a significant head wound. When he was being transported to the medical wing, he had a seizure and almost suffocated. The doctors are caring for him now, but it’s too soon to tell if he has suffered any brain damage.”

“When will we know anything?” Clarke asks, feeling calmer as she talks in terms of medical conditions. All she has to do is block out the fact that the death of this boy would have extremely personal consequences for her and her friends.

“I don’t know.”

Clarke hesitates before asking, “Can…can I try and help him?”

President Wallace cocks his head. “Our doctors are more than capable of helping this boy.”

“I know that, but I would feel better if I could—”

This is the wrong thing to say, because the President steps forward, his eyes on fire. “This isn’t about what would make you _feel better_ , Clarke. This is a young man’s _life_. You will only get in the way of the real doctors.”

Clarke’s cheeks burn and she averts her gaze from the furious look in the President’s eyes. “I didn’t mean—”

“The answer is no, Clarke.” He stands taller after he says this, and shifts to address Bellamy and Finn. “You must understand that we will not tolerate this sort of behaviour. If the boy lives, you will have a fair trial in front of Mount Weather’s council to decide whether or not you should be allowed to walk free. Until then, you will be kept in isolation, under strict supervision.”

Bellamy looks up, practically choking on the weight of his actions, and rasps, “And if he dies?”

President Wallace presses his lips into a tight line. “We have a special kind of punishment for those who refuse to follow the rules.”

He starts to walk away, but Bellamy won’t let him leave with that threat hanging in the air. “What’s the punishment?” Clarke can hardly stand the crack in his voice on the word “punishment.”

The President looks at Bellamy, looks at the way he’s practically already crumbled to his knees, looks at the way his entire face is red and blotchy, looks at the way he can barely hold in his grief. The President opens his mouth to say something, then closes it and turns his head.

To the Mountain Men he says, “Take the criminals back to their own isolated rooms, and escort Clarke and Monty to their quarters.” Then he leaves, and the Mountain Men start dragging everyone apart.

“Bellamy! Finn!” Clarke calls out, and they both look over, but neither resists the Mountain Men as they’re pulled away. On both of their faces, there’s resignation to their fates. They’ve already accepted whatever punishment the President has planned, and Clarke feels like she’s been punched in the stomach, because she just got both of them back, and now they’re already slipping away again.

She feels the Mountain Men loosen her handcuffs until she can slide them off, and she knows that she’s free to go, but she feels almost as trapped as Bellamy and Finn. The Mountain Men drag them through one of the previously sealed doors, and then they’re gone, and Monty is beside her now, saying her name.

She feels something wet and warm trailing down her hands, and she looks at her wrists to see blood oozing from the wounds from the handcuffs. She stares at the blood, knowing she needs to clean herself up to prevent infection, but she doesn’t know what she should do after that.

“Clarke,” she hears Monty say. “They need to take us back to our rooms now.” He gestures to the Mountain Men, who look impatient. They probably wish they could just slap the handcuffs back on and drag them to their rooms.

“Monty?” Clarke asks, her voice small. She looks at him, standing next to her with his arm slung over her shoulder to try and comfort her. Concern is etched into his features, and his eyes are still red and a little puffy.

“Yeah?”

She bites her lip and looks back at her bloody wrists. “We’re fucked, aren’t we?”


	5. Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm trying to write as much as possible before my break is over, so here's the next chapter! i'm a little unsure of this one, just because there are some dark thoughts, but i hope you think it works. anyways, enjoy! thanks again for all the comments :)

“I’m going crazy, Monty,” Clarke says as she balls her hands into fists. She’s been pacing for hours, waiting for some news of any kind. She hopes the President will keep her informed on Jackson’s wellbeing, but so far he hasn’t stopped by or sent any messages. She knows nothing, and she’s been locked in the dorms with the rest of the 48 ever since they got back from the medical center. She needed her wrists looked at, and it was absolute torture to know that Jackson was behind one of the doors around her, and she couldn’t do anything about what was happening to him.

“Clarke, would you please stop pacing?” That’s Jasper, who’s been irritable ever since they got back. He didn’t like the exclusion.

She stops for a moment to glare at him. “I literally have nothing else to do.” She continues pacing.

Jasper groans from his bed. He’s staring up at the top bunk above him, his hands folded behind his head, and there’s an annoyed air around him. “You could, I don’t know, maybe think about what you’re going to do when this kid dies?”

“Jasper, he might live,” Monty cuts in before Clarke can yell at Jasper. They’ve already had this fight, and none of the 48 want to hear it again. “There’s no guarantee.”

Monty shoots his friend a defusing look, and Jasper sighs in resignation. “Whatever. But for the record, Clarke, you’re driving everyone else crazy.”

“Misery loves company,” she mutters, not really wanting Jasper to hear.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Harper asks from her spot leaning against the wall. There’s a fierceness in her eyes that makes Clarke smile a little.

Here’s this girl that isn’t particularly close with Bellamy or Finn, who is happy with her life in Mount Weather, but she’s willing to get involved in whatever it takes to help these boys, even if it jeopardizes that new life. It makes Clarke feel less isolated, and more like she has people to fall back on.

And as quickly as that train of thought became happy, it descends back into fear and worry for Bellamy and Finn. They were her support, at different times and in different circumstances and in different ways, but she’s needed both of them at some point. She still needs them, because even with other people to fall back on, it’s not enough. No one can replace Finn or Bellamy. It feels selfish to wish that Jackson lives so Bellamy and Finn are safe, but that’s what she’s wishing, and she’s wishing it so hard she can barely think about anything else.

*

It comes in wave after wave, pummeling him into dust and choking him until his chest burns and his throat is ragged. He sits on the cold floor, knees drawn up to his chest to try and stop himself from shaking so much. He tried to smother the sobs when he was first dragged to this room, but at this point he’s let go. He’s loose and letting sob after sob wrack his body until he feels like he’s going to throw up. He feels like everything is crashing down around him, and he’s spinning wildly out of control, and there’s no way for him to orient himself. Every time he almost gets his bearing, almost manages to stand up straight and face the hulking guilt that he’s crumbling beneath, he loses his footing and ends up broken and disoriented again. And the self-loathing that comes with this breakdown is just as awful.

_Get up, you piece of shit,_ Bellamy tells himself. _Stop crying like you’re six years old again. Deal with your actions like a godamn adult!_

_That kid is going to die, and it’s my fault. I hit him, it was my fist,_ he cries. _There’s nothing else to do but sit here and wait for whatever happens next._

_Why are you so fucking pathetic?_ he yells inside. _You deserve whatever punishment you get, you murderous freak._

Bellamy’s suffocating and there’s nothing he can do about it, because the suffocation is internal.

“Get up,” he says, aloud this time, through the snot and tears and gasping breaths. “Get up.”

He doesn’t move to get up. He digs his fingernails into his arms, still wrapped around his knees, until he draws blood. It doesn’t help, and he stays locked in the fetal position.

“I’m a murderer,” Bellamy chokes out, his voice so small and frayed he almost doesn’t hear himself. “I’m a killer.”

The thought has been with him since the beginning. He thought he killed Jaha, and he had to live with that guilt for weeks. Even if he knew he did it to try and protect his sister, that didn’t make him feel any better as he watched the Chancellor’s son walk around, trying to keep peace and rules and order just like his dad. Bellamy never really liked Wells, but his heart was heavy when Wells was found dead, and all Bellamy could think about was the two dead Jahas and their connections to Bellamy Blake. No, he didn’t kill Wells, but he helped enable Charlotte. He gave her the tools and the mindset to kill, even if he didn’t do it purposely.

When he found out the Chancellor was alive, he didn’t feel much better. Bellamy still shot him, and he’d intended to kill. That makes him a murderer in his own mind, despite any technicalities.

And the first time he truly did kill someone—Dax—he couldn’t stop thinking about how Dax was Bellamy. Dax had been instructed to kill someone to protect a loved one, just like Bellamy. Dax had been the bad guy with somewhat noble reasons, and so had Bellamy, and there was no excuse about self-defense or protecting Clarke. If Dax should die, why shouldn’t Bellamy?

He’s entertained the thought of suicide before, but he’s always had someone to help pull him back from the edge of the cliff. It had been Octavia a few times, back on the Ark, and it had been Clarke on earth. But now he was locked up, alone, and breaking apart as the weight of this new guilt settled on his shoulders.

Jackson was just a kid, and he’d done absolutely nothing wrong except try and help Finn as he was getting beaten. He didn’t deserve what was happening to him. And yet it was. And Bellamy was at fault, and no one else. Not even Finn, because it wasn’t Finn’s fist or Finn that let Jackson fall and smack his head onto the floor. Bellamy’s own head is pounding at the thought; at the thought of Jackson bleeding and dying, and Bellamy being right there and not doing anything. At the blood on his hands, and how he knows that he’ll never truly be able to wash that blood away if Jackson dies.

Bellamy is still crying, but it’s less like uncontrolled sobbing and more like defeated sniveling. There is a lot of shame within Bellamy as he sits there, crying and wishing he could feel numb instead, but something else is starting to take root inside him: relief. The endless, yawning pit of self-hatred that Bellamy has been struggling to pull himself out of for so long might finally just swallow him. Wouldn’t there be some comfort in the end of it all? Bellamy thinks that the “punishment” President Wallace was talking about is death, because these are people built to survive, and survival comes with hard choices like the death penalty. The Ark knew all about hard choices, and he’s betting that the people of Mount Weather do, too.

If he dies, Bellamy won’t have to think about Wells or the Chancellor or Charlotte or Dax or the 320 people from the Ark or Jackson or anything. He won’t have to drag himself out of nightmares every night, and he won’t have to blame himself for each misstep he’s made. Yes, there’s some comfort in the idea of death.

_But what about Octavia? What about the rest of the kids from the Ark I need to protect?_ he asks himself, the final tears drying on his cheeks. _What about Clarke?_

The relief becomes more tangible when he thinks about Clarke. He knows she’s safe, and he knows she’s got somewhere stable to live. She could find happiness inside Mount Weather, and she could help keep everyone safe within its walls. But Bellamy finds himself wishing he could find that happiness too, and maybe he’d be able to do it with Clarke by his side.

What if Jackson doesn’t die? What if he lives, and Finn and Bellamy get a fair trial and get to live in Mount Weather, and the guilt that threatens to swallow Bellamy whole eases? Could a future like that exist? Bellamy, in some small and stupid part of himself, looks at that possibility and forbids himself from letting himself drown in despair.

_Fight,_ he tells himself. _Get up._

Bellamy finally gets up off the floor; he uncurls his fingers, lets his arms slacken, stretches his legs, and rises to his feet. He drags a hand down his face, rubbing off the last of his gloom, and just exhales. He breathes for a minute, calm and in control, before he starts to think about what to do next.

*

Finn is just sitting there, seething, when the President walks in. Finn doesn’t look up—he’s so mad at everything that’s happened he’s worried he might just snap. The President clears his throat, and the guards close the door behind him. It’s just Finn and President Wallace, alone in the room they’ve locked Finn in.

“Aren’t you worried I might attack you?” Finn scoffs, anger dripping from his voice. He doesn’t even know who he’s so angry at. The President? Bellamy? Himself?

(Clarke?)

The President smiles a little, seemingly amused. “You won’t hurt me, Finn. You’re not a fool.”

“You sure about that?” Finn asks, the past few weeks on earth and all the mistakes he’s made flashing before his eyes. He could rattle them off one after the other. The two kids who mimicked him on the dropship, cheating on Raven with Clarke, the distance that grew between him and Clarke, letting things go badly with the Grounders on Unity Day, and more and more and more.

Finn blows a breath of air to get his hair out of his face. The new bangs that Raven cut for him a few weeks ago are bugging him. He misses his old hair, the hair he had before she dropped in. His stomach turns as he thinks this: he should be more grateful for Raven and all that she’s done for him, but something’s changed in Finn. He’s glad Raven is alive and on earth and she was able to help the rest of the 100, but he sometimes wishes she hadn’t come down. They only worked as a couple on the Ark, when it was the two of them alone in each other’s worlds, and he misses the Raven and Finn they were back in space. Everything’s changed on earth, and he wishes they hadn’t.

The President sighs and sits heavily on Finn’s bed.

“I am sure, Finn,” he says, tilting his head to look at the ceiling. “And that’s why I’m here.”

“Well, I appreciate you coming all the way down here to make sure I know I’m not an idiot,” Finn says flatly.

“I have a proposition for you,” the President continues. “And I think you should consider it.”

“I’m all ears.” What has he got to lose?

The President looks over at Finn and creases his brow. “You and I both know that Bellamy is condemned if Jackson dies.”

Finn freezes. His heart starts to pound, and the mood of the room seems much more serious all of a sudden. Finn swallows hard and licks his lips, not sure what to say.

The President keeps talking like nothing changed. “You, on the other hand…you are a different story.”

“Why?” Finn asks, that anger returning. “I was there. I was part of the plan. It’s as much my fault as it is Bellamy’s.”

“You didn’t hit Jackson.”

Finn waves this away. “It could have easily been me. I don’t know why, but we just decided Bellamy would hit him. It was all chance.”

“That doesn’t matter now. What does matter is that Bellamy will have Jackson’s blood on his hands, and you won’t. Bellamy will be punished if the boy dies, but I think we can arrange to let you free.”

“Why?” Finn yells, suddenly feeling explosive. Why was the President here right now? What was he gaining from this exchange? “Why would you want to help me?”

The President leans close, his eyes bright and eager. “Because I think you can help me.”

“With what?” Finn demands. He’s exasperated and just wants answers.

“We’re planning on an attack on the Grounders,” Wallace says, letting his eyes wander back to the ceiling. “It’s been in the works for years, but we never had access to inside information. Until you fell from the sky.”

Finn shakes his head, not understanding his role in this story. “I still don’t know how this concerns me.”

“You and your people have fought with the Grounders,” the President says, still talking to the ceiling. “You know their strategies, and their tactics. You could help.”

“Why me specifically? Why not Clarke, or—”

“No,” he interrupts, his voice suddenly sharp. “It has to be you. You’re the peacemaker, no?”

Finn exhales, thinking about whether or not that’s actually true. “How—?”

“The others told us,” the President answers before Finn can ask. “But that’s the truth, isn’t it?”

“I guess,” Finn says.

“So _that’s_ why it has to be you.” The President looks back to Finn, a gleam in his eye. Finn thinks he sees hope there, too. “Who else would be more motivated to help us get the information we need for a quick attack with minimal casualties?”

Finn is taken aback. “Mr. President, it’s not like everyone else from the Ark is bloodthirsty and wants war—”

“No, but you’re the only one who tried for peace when they all prepared for attack. You sought the Grounders leader to try and proactively stop the violence while they started to make bullets.”

Finn thinks back to Unity Day, to Raven making bullets and acting sullen. To Clarke going behind Finn’s back and bringing guns, jeopardizing the entire meeting. To Jasper acting like a war hero for shooting a few Grounders from trees. His blood boils all over again.

“Finn,” the President puts a hand on Finn’s shoulder. It’s heavy and uncomfortable to Finn, but he doesn’t shove the President away. “We need you to help us efficiently take down the Grounders so there can be real peace.”

Finn’s tempted, but he bites his lip. Can Finn really be the President’s best choice? “I don’t even have that much information on the Grounders. Bellamy and Clarke were in charge, they know the most.” The words leave a bitter taste in Finn’s mouth.

“What will it take for you to understand that no one else can help us the way you can?” The President’s face is all too hopeful, and it’s making Finn feel guilty and he doesn’t know why.

He’s stammering now, unable to keep his thoughts straight. “Even if…even if I said yes, what would I do?”

“You’d attend war meetings and offer information when asked. We might ask about their weapons, or how they like to attack and when. How ruthless their leaders are, and their traditions in battle.”

“I could give you these answers now, and I wouldn’t need to attend any meetings.”

“Finn, we need you.” The President sounds so sincere, so real, and Finn can feel himself leaning towards accepting the offer. “And if you don’t take the deal, you’ll face some punishment if Jackson dies. Not as strict as the ones Bellamy will face, but still significant.” He pauses and looks at Finn for a moment before saying, quietly, “I’m trying to help you, Finn. So you can help us. _All_ of us, Grounders and Mountain Men alike.”

Finn breathes for a second, thinking it all over, before he takes the President’s hand in his own and shakes. He smiles warily and says, “I accept. I’ll help you.”

The President’s smile is wide as Finn’s ever seen.


	6. Deal With It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! i know it's been a few weeks since i last posted and i'm really sorry!! things get crazy, especially around exams and it doesn't make things any easier when i'm obsessively watching Gilmore Girls at the same time... (heads up to any GG fans--i may be posting some fics from that universe soon) anyways, i just wrote this and i hope you're all still interested enough to read it! reviews are always super appreciated :)

Finn shuffles through the empty halls, going over the directions the President gave him again and again. The 48’s quarters are just around the next bend, but his feet feel leaden and it gets harder and harder to force himself to take each step. He’s hoping in a small part of himself that everyone will be asleep, and that he can slip into the room without anyone noticing, and he can sleep before he has to face the bombardment of questions Clarke will surely throw his way. He sighs, a little bitterly. He doesn’t want to answer her questions. He knows that she’ll just ask where Bellamy is when he walks in, and when he doesn’t have an answer, she’ll narrow her eyes and question why he’s allowed to be free and Bellamy’s not. Finn can’t handle Clarke’s penetrating gaze right about now: he knows he’ll spill about the President’s offer and his acceptance.

 _What’s the big deal, anyways? We need to be allies with Mount Weather, and I’m helping,_ Finn tells himself. _Clarke, of all people, will understand that._ And yet, he has a sneaking suspicion that she’s going to judge him for agreeing to work with the President. She doesn’t trust the President, especially not after today, and Finn wants Clarke to trust him. He doesn’t want her to furrow her brows and frown and clench her jaw when Finn tells her what he’s agreed to, but it feels inevitable.

He eventually ends up in front of the door that leads to the dorms. He takes a deep breath, sending another silent prayer that everyone’s asleep, then puts his hand on the knob and twists. He step through the threshold and there are 48 pairs of eyes on him. He sighs tiredly, but it’s cut off when Clarke rushes to him and throws her arms around his neck.

“Finn!” she exclaims, genuine relief in her voice. But Finn doesn’t even have time to put his arms around her before she’s pulling back, back out of their embrace, and faces him. Her entire face bright and she smiles at him quickly before she twists to look behind him. Searching for Bellamy, no doubt. Finn sighs again, feeling weary down to his bones at this game he didn’t even realize he was playing with Clarke until recently, and he realizes he just wants to lie down.

Clarke looks back at Finn, confusion already clouding over the brightness that only lasted a second. She’s still close enough that he could reach out and touch her, and he wants to, but he doesn’t because it would only remind them both that he fucked up everything between them so fast. He shakes his head, not letting himself linger on the pity forming a knot in his stomach. He made a mistake, and it cost him Clarke and probably Raven. And now he had to deal with it. So he kept his hands to himself and let Clarke’s disappointment at not seeing Bellamy wash over him like bleach. It burned, but it felt therapeutic, in a way—he was becoming clean.

“Bellamy isn’t with you?” Clarke asks, her face completely shrouded now. There is nothing but steel in her eyes.

Finn shakes his head. “No.”

“Well, what happened?” she demands. When Finn ducks his head, she moves closer and forces him to look in her eyes. “Finn, what’s going on?”

He blows out a long breath, shoves his hands in his pockets, and says, “The President let me out.”

Clarke clenches her teeth, obviously irritated that Finn won’t just give her the entire story already. But he’s not offering up anything—no, she’s got to ask.

“Why did he let you out?” Clarke asks, trying to sound patient but it’s not really working.

“Because I agreed to help him.”

“With what?” she demands, exasperated.

“I’m going to help the Mountain Men plot against the Grounders so we can find peace, once and for all,” he says, forcing himself to keep eye contact.

Clarke unconsciously takes a step back. She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. She tries again and manages an, “Oh, um, all right,” before she frowns and Finn can see the gears whirring behind her eyes.

“Clarke, this is a good thing,” he says gently. The tiredness is creeping into his voice now, and the exhaustion he feels is weighing him down. “It’ll help.”

Clarke nods sharply and looks up at Finn. “No, yeah, you’re right. This should be good. It’s just…” she trails off, and Finn doesn’t really want to ask what she was going to say, but he feels like he has to.

“It’s just what, Clarke?”

“Well, we just survived a war with the Grounders. Are we sure we want to start another so soon?”

“It’s not another war, Clarke,” Finn bites. “We’re finding _peace_. And by the way, you think the Grounders are going to want to take a little time out after this? No, they’re probably livid about all their people we recently murdered.” He stops talking, realizing his voice has gotten louder and louder. Everyone is still staring at him and Clarke. They’d been left alone until now, but his yelling pulls everyone into the discussion.

Finn drags a hand down his face. “Look, Clarke, I’m tired, all right? I just want to go to bed. Everything will be fine.”

She takes another step back, nodding slowly. “Okay, Finn. We can talk tomorrow.”

He nods back and moves to brush past her, but she grabs his arm and he stops. She waits until he turns to face her, and the worry on her face practically punches Finn in the gut. He knows what she’s going to ask before the words even fall from her mouth.

“Do you have any idea where they’re keeping Bellamy?” she asks. She’s pleading with her eyes.

“No. I know where they were keeping me, though…” he says, and then explains to her where he was being kept. He tells her how to find her way through the halls, and which turns to take. “Bellamy’s probably there, in one of the other doors.”

Clarke gives Finn a gracious nod and squeezes his arm before she turns to Monty, who’s been standing dutifully behind her the entire time. Finn tries and fails to stop himself from wondering if Clarke would be willing to leap into action to save him anymore.

 

*

Bellamy’s been lying on the stiff cot for hours now, just staring up at the ceiling. It feels remarkably similar to how he spent many nights on the Ark, breathing stuffy air and feeling anxiety roiling around in his gut. God, the constant anxiety Bellamy felt on the Ark was unbearable. Every second, he was scared that Octavia was going to be found and everything would blow up. He lost so much sleep worrying about it that he’s sure he could never make it all up if he slept for weeks straight. And then she was found, his mother was executed, and he was alone, and the anxiety only got worse.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. _Octavia._ He hopes she’s doing okay, and that she’s safe. He hates himself for not being with her, but there’s really nothing he can do about it. He can’t even keep himself safe at this point. In fact, Octavia is probably better off outside of this mountain with Lincoln to help keep her safe than anywhere else. But Bellamy still wishes that there was some way he could know for sure, just to give himself a little peace of mind.

Bellamy sits up as he hears a guard fiddling with the key to his cell door. He doesn’t bother to get off the bed, but his heart rate speeds up as he anticipates what the hell they could want with him. Maybe they’re just bringing him some food and water after being locked up for so long, or maybe they’re here to make sure he hasn’t broken out again.

 _Or maybe the kid’s dead, and they’re here to drag you to your death,_ a sinister voice in Bellamy’s head whispers, and the idea sends chills down his spine. He swallows hard, trying to shake the thought away.

The door finally opens and two guards step through the threshold. They immediately scream in unison, “Stand up! Hands on your head!”

Shit. They sound mad.

Bellamy slowly swings his legs around the edge of the bed and places his hands on his head. He stands up, rising slowly, and then one guard pounces. He grabs Bellamy’s arms and wrenches them behind his back, while his partner stands stoically by the door, his eyes glued to the scene before him. He takes in every detail. Bellamy feels the cool, sharp bite of metal on his wrists again, and the panic is swelling in his chest now.

 _I’m going to die_ , he thinks as the guard cinches a blindfold over his eyes.

*

“Are we doing this? Again?” Monty hisses in Clarke’s ear. “We got let off easy last time. What do you think will happen if they catch us sneaking around again?”

Clarke pauses, then turns to her friend. “Monty, we have to do something. I know where to find Bellamy now, I think, and I’m not just going to wait around until—”

The door to the dorm crashes open, and everyone jumps. Clarke peers around other kids, trying to see who is at the door, but she doesn’t have a clear view. She doesn’t need one, because two seconds later, a hard voice calls out, “I need to see Clarke Griffin.”

She steps out from the crowd, noticing Monty trailing behind her, and sees the President, looking angry and tired like he hasn’t slept in weeks. He straightens his posture when Clarke steps forward, and he meets her eyes when he says, “It’s Jackson.”


	7. There Are Always Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm so horrible and i don't update this story quickly....it means so much to me that you guys are interested in my writing, and i thank everyone who is tolerating my nonsense! anyways, this chapter is pretty long and i'm starting to set myself up for what i humbly believe to be some really cool story arcs so, stay tuned!!!! i love any and all feedback, so let me know what you think!

After a few minutes of hurried walking, the guards sit Bellamy down at a table in a new room. He can hear the murmur of a gathered crowd, and he can’t stop himself from clenching his entire body. He grinds his jaw and squeezes his hands into fists and curls his toes, trying to force himself to stay calm and in control, but he hears Jackson’s name floating through the crowd, and the word _murderer_ is passed through whispers. It’s impossible to hold onto any sort of calmness.

Jackson’s dead. Bellamy killed him. And now he’s here, waiting to face whatever punishment they’ll toss his way, and there’s nothing he can do to make anything better—he can only wait. The shock of it settles on him, and he rolls his shoulders to get used to the extra weight he knows he’ll be carrying for the rest of his life, however long it may be. Of course, it could end that very night. The people at Mount Weather probably weren’t opposed to the death penalty.

Panic fully sets in at that moment. He has so much left to do—so much left to say—and now, he has no time to do it. His breathing becomes shallow and raspy, and he starts to struggle against his bonds. He pulls at his handcuffs until he feels them slice through his flesh, and he uses his feet to push away from the table. There’s a strong hand on his shoulder just as Bellamy stands up, and the hand shoves Bellamy back down. Unfortunately, Bellamy misses the chair and ends up collapsing to the floor, his face scratching against the worn carpet. There are people yelling in the room, all of them demanding that Bellamy be apprehended. More hands grip Bellamy’s arms to pull him back up, but he thrashes around again.

“No, no, no!” he screams, his voice cracking. “I’m not dying today, I’m not!” He can’t catch his breath, and he feels tears soaking into the blindfold that’s still firmly held in place.

“Get up, kid,” one of the guards whispers gruffly over the clamor in the room, but Bellamy refuses to cooperate.

“I-I didn’t m-mean to h-hurt him,” Bellamy coughs out, his body shaking and his terror bubbling up in his chest. His tongue feels heavy and clumsy, and he can’t find a way to speak without stumbling over his words.

The guard offers absolutely no sympathy and kicks Bellamy in the back, sending Bellamy sprawling back to the carpet. Bellamy coughs into the carpet, trying to process the aching pain in his back, when the guard yanks him back to a semi-sitting position.

“I don’t give a damn what you meant to do,” the guard says through clenched teeth, “I’m just here to make sure you stay put.”

The guard pulls on Bellamy’s arm, insisting that Bellamy stand again, and it’s when he’s finally back on his feet that Bellamy realizes how badly he’s shaking. He feels unsteady on his feet and he can hear the clatter his handcuffs are making. Nothing about Bellamy feels stable, like the world has been completely refigured once again and he’s got to deal with how to adjust to the changes. But he can’t, not this time: it’s too disoriented for him, and he’s got no bearing whatsoever.

“Excuse me,” a small voice says near Bellamy. The voice sniffles, and sounds so broken when it asks, “sir, could you please remove his blindfold for a moment?”

The guard hesitates, but then begins to untie the knot at the back of Bellamy’s blindfold. Bellamy steels himself for what he’s about to see, which he’s guessing is going to be a grieving family. He doesn’t know how to behave. See, every other time he’s killed someone, he didn’t have to deal with the guilt of the family. He only had to focus on the guilt for ending a life and what that meant for the deceased, but not what that meant for the people that loved the deceased. He never had to think that far, and his heart is in absolute tatters as his blindfold is removed and he sees the red, puffy face of woman that couldn’t be older than twenty-five.

She has messy hair and smelly clothes and grief etched into her every pore, but Bellamy can’t stop staring at the blazing anger he finds in her eyes. It unhinges him to see so much fury and hatred that Bellamy knows is (rightly) directed at him, and he has to use every fiber of strength to keep himself from breaking eye contact.

“You killed my brother,” the woman says in that frayed voice, but her eyes stay piercing. “You killed the only thing I have in this whole, empty world.”

Bellamy struggles to find some words to make this better, but he realizes no such thing exists and stops trying.

The woman clutches her stomach as she says, “It hasn’t been confirmed by the doctor yet, but I can feel it, you know? I know he’s dead, and he’s dead because of you.”

Bellamy wants to throw up, but he swallows back his bile. It burns on the way back down, and he relishes the feeling: it’s punishment, and it’s what he deserves.

The woman takes a step away, blinking back tears but refusing to break eye contact with Bellamy. He swears she can see down to the very pit of his soul with those eyes, and she knows exactly who he is and feels qualified to hate him with all she can muster.

She chokes out, “I hope you fucking rot,” before she turns away and sits down at an empty chair a few meters away. She curls in on herself and puts a hand to her mouth, holding back sobs, and no one around her comforts her. She really must be alone.

Bellamy can’t even begin to process the horrible feelings rushing through him, but he’s able to recognize empathy when he feels it. He can’t imagine how awful he would feel if Octavia were murdered, and he knows he wouldn’t have nearly as much self control as the woman that stood before him did. He would’ve torn the killer to pieces, but as Bellamy sits there and feels every piece of himself splintering, he wonders if the woman didn’t tear him apart anyways.

Bellamy tears his gaze away from her and quickly takes in the scene around him. He’s sitting at a table facing a small crowd, but he doesn’t let his eyes linger on anyone because they start to scream at him when he does. These people want him dead, and there’s nothing he can do. There’s another table to his right that has a special chair set up, which he guesses is for the President. He wonders when the President will show up, when he’ll deliver the final blow. Bellamy can’t decide if he wants to start the process already and get it over with, or if he wants things to progress slowly so he can at least soak in his last few living moments.

Bellamy briefly considers trying to break away again, but he knows he’d never really get away. They’d catch him, if not before he even reached the door, but eventually at some point inside the intricate walls of Mount Weather. He’d never escape. But he stills itches to try. Would he rather die knowing the bullet was coming as he knelt with the gun at his temple, or would he rather die running, trying, _living?_

Bellamy is about to push himself from the table again when the door at the back bursts open, and Clarke runs in, her face flushed and alive. Her name is on his lips and his heart flutters, but then it immediately shatters as he thinks about the fact that today will be the last time he sees her.

*

“It’s Jackson,” the President says to Clarke in the barracks. Her heart stops, and she feels her blood freeze. She holds her breath as she waits for the axe to drop, and all she can do is repeat the word _no, no, no_ over and over again in her head. The President offers her a small smile. “He’s out of surgery, and the doctor is sure he’ll recover.”

Clarke almost collapses in relief. She does lean back a bit, right into Monty, who looks like he hasn’t blinked since the President walked in.

“Jackson isn’t dead?” Clarke asks, her voice a little hoarse.

“No, he isn’t.”

Clarke smiles and licks her lips. “So—so what does this mean for Bellamy?”

The smile slides off the President’s face. “Bellamy is facing the disciplinary council as we speak.”

“Jackson isn’t dead, though.”

“For a while, it seemed like there was no other outcome. The council called a premature meeting.”

Clarke pauses, suddenly wary of all the information the President was giving her. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

President Wallace gives Clarke another wan smile. “I want us to be allies, Clarke. I want to build trust between us, for the mutual benefit of our people.” He tilts his head. “I figured that giving you information about your friend would be a good first step.”

Clarke nods curtly. “Well, thank you, sir.”

“The meeting is being held in Room 603, on the second floor. I will be right behind you,” the President says, then gestures for Clarke to leave.

She looks back at Monty and they both start for the door, but the President waggles his finger. “Only you can go, Clarke. This will be a very sensitive meeting, and I do not want to create an even bigger divide between the Mountain Men and your people.”

Clarke bristles at this, feeling skeptical, but Monty tells her with his eyes that she should go. Without hesitating another second, she bolts from the dorms and sprints down the halls, searching for Room 603 and Bellamy.

She finds it quite easily, as it’s the only room on the entire second floor that’s loud and obviously full of people. She pushes into the room, out of breath and a little sweaty, but none of that matter when she seems Bellamy slumped at a table at the front of the room. His shoulders are hunched, his body is tense, and he looks absolutely terrified. He looks up when she enters the room, and they make eye contact. She wants to call out to him, but she feels like it isn’t a good idea.

Bellamy gives her an utterly broken smile, and she remembers that he doesn’t know that Jackson is alive. None of these people do. God, Bellamy must think he’s about to die! Clarke starts making her way to the front of the room, very aware of all the people staring at her, but her gaze never leaves Bellamy’s. They stare at each other as she walks closer and closer, and she tries to tell him with her eyes that he’s safe, but he isn’t trying to read her. He’s just watching her, drinking her in like he thinks it’s the last time he’ll ever see her.

 _Oh,_ she thinks.

She reaches Bellamy and braces her hands on the table as she leans in close—close enough to see every single freckle on Bellamy’s face—to whisper, “Jackson is alive.”

She only hears his sharp breath before there’s a guard yelling at her to step away from Bellamy right this second, so she steps back and watches the relief and confusion playing out on Bellamy’s face.

“Order, people, order!” The crowd turns back to the doors as the President enters. His presence is so commanding that people immediately listen, and the room goes quiet. While everyone else watches the President, Clarke watches Bellamy continue to process the information she just gave him. There’s an incredulous smile on his face, and she smiles back.

The President walks briskly to the front of the room and takes a seat in a huge chair at the head of a different table. As if on cue, four other people walk in from the door and quietly seat themselves around the President at the table. _Disciplinary council members,_ Clarke thinks. They all look very professional: there are hard frown lines on everyone’s faces, no smiles in sight, and everyone’s posture is stiff and straight.

“If everyone would please sit down,” President Wallace says loudly, giving Clarke a pointed look before addressing the rest of the crowd, “then we could begin the meeting.”

Clarke gives Bellamy another reassuring glance before she hurries to find an available seat. People throw her dirty looks as she sits down, and she tries her best to ignore them, but she can’t help but think about what President Wallace was saying about trust. The coldness she feels from these people will be hard to thaw, even once everyone learns Jackson isn’t actually dead. How will anyone trust the 48 if the Mountain Men’s lingering impression of them is that they’re too eager to brutally attack people to get what they want?

“Now, there has been a very fortunate development in this case,” The President continues. “Jackson has survived: he’s out of surgery, and in recovery. This is no longer a murder trial, and we will have to adjust our plans accordingly.”

The crowd erupts into murmured chaos, debating and yelling and begging for more news. The President quiets them once again with his hand, looking impatient.

“As was previously discussed, punishment is absolutely required for this instance. I believe a job as a maintenance keeper of the lowest level will be sufficient.”

“That’s no punishment!” someone yells. It’s a girl, holding tightly to herself like if she doesn’t she’ll fall apart. There’s anger bleeding into her voice, and she firmly holds onto Bellamy’s gaze. “He deserves worse.”

“Cynthia, I understand your desire for personal retribution, but this man has not killed anyone, and is instead being charged with assault. The standard is work detail, so the offender may learn discipline and responsibility and respect for our institution. I believe the standard should apply here.”

“Why would he only clean the lowest level?” the girl—Cynthia—demands.

The President smiles for just a second before he buries it under a serious, all business frown. “The council has elected that the conditions of the lowest level will be best suited for this man’s punishment.”

The woman shakes her head. “This is bullshit,” she declares, then pushes her way through the aisle towards the door. She exits out without looking back, and the crowd is left stunned silent in her wake. Clarke looks to Bellamy, who is swallowing hard and staring at the spot the woman had previously been sitting. He looks stricken.

“If any council member has an objection to the punishment currently issued to Bellamy Blake, please say so now.” None of the council members so much as shift in their seat, let alone challenge the President. “Good. With that, I adjourn this meeting.” The President stands, and so does everyone in the crowd. Clarke looks back at Bellamy, trying to gauge his reaction, but all she can see is the relief spreading slowly across his features as it sinks in his only punishment will be a little bit of maintenance work. It beats dying by a wide, wide margin.


	8. Just Sit Tight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again! this chapter isn't as long as a few others, my apologies! i hope you enjoyed, and if you want to write one, i would really appreciate reading any comments you leave. i wonder if you can guess what direction this is heading....things are ramping up soon....

Bellamy hates cleaning the lower level. It’s dark, the air is stale, and no amount of cleaning will block out the horrible stench. It smells like decay and sweat, and he can’t exactly place where the smell is coming from, but it extends across the entire level. Plus, the familiar routine reminds him of the days he spent as a janitor on the Ark after Octavia was taken away and his mother killed. He was so lonely and guilty in those days that all he could think about were the members of his broken family, and how it was him who messed everything up. He thinks about Octavia as he scrubs at some weird, old stain on the concrete, and he wonders for the millionth time if she’s okay with Lincoln. He misses his little sister, and it’s killing him that he doesn’t know where she is.

Clarke and Bellamy have been discussing leaving Mount Weather soon—all fifty of them—and he can look for Octavia after that. The two of them are in agreement that something is off with Mount Weather; it’s in the lingering glances they get from the Mountain Men, and the way the President sends someone down every day to check on them. Clarke thinks it’s a polite way for Wallace to remind everyone that he’s watching their every move.

“But why is he so interested?” Clarke demanded a few days ago. “What does he care if we’ve eaten enough, or the beds are comfortable, or we’re fitting in?”

Bellamy let out a long breath and stared up at the endlessly dull ceiling. He missed the stars. The two of them were walking through the tunnel, talking and trying to figure out what to do next. They weren’t getting anywhere.

“I don’t know, Clarke, I really don’t know,” he finally said.

They walked in silence for a moment before she grabbed his arm, stopping him mid-stride. He looked down at her, and she was biting her lip anxiously. Her eyes were big and worried when she said, “Bell, do you think we’re prisoners here?”

Bellamy furrowed his brow before he said, “Probably. I bet if we just tried to get up and leave, they’d stop us. But I doubt they want to call us prisoners.” He scoffed. “It’s not very polite.”

Clarke squeezed his forearm before letting go, but the two walked a little closer from then on.

“Even if we could figure out how to get out of here, and even if Wallace let us, what if the rest of our people didn’t want to follow?” Clarke asked.

“You don’t think they’d follow us—you, especially—anywhere you asked them to?” Bellamy said.

Bellamy noticed Clarke biting her lip again. “I don’t know. Most of them seem pretty comfortable here, and they don’t get the weird vibes we do. Even Finn is starting to relax into a routine,” she said, a note of annoyance in her voice.

“I bet if we told them straight up we needed to get out of here, they’d understand.”

Clarke chewed on that idea for a minute before responding, “How are they supposed to just trust that we’ll be able to keep them safer outside of the Mountain? Last time we were outside, we lost a lot of people in an honest to God war with the Grounders. We could potentially get them all killed if we leave.”

Bellamy sighed heavily and rubbed the back of his neck. They both felt so trapped. “Okay, tell you what,” Bellamy said. “We wait a bit longer to leave Mount Weather. It’s been, what, two weeks since my trial? That means we’ve been in the mountain about eighteen days, which is really nothing. If things keep feeling weird, we’ll split, but we should just stay put for a while longer.”

Clarke nodded in agreement and brushed her shoulder against Bellamy’s, an action that they both focused too much attention on.

“I still think we should be looking for escape routes,” Clarke said.

Bellamy grinned. “What the hell else would I be doing cleaning every day?”

Bellamy sighs and grunts as he gets up from the floor, finally deciding that the stain is impossible to scrub away. He tosses his rag into the bucket on his cleaning cart, wipes the sweat from his brow, and starts to wheel the cart to the other end of the hall. He’ll fill out the check-in sheet in one of the offices, then he’ll be done for the day. He opens one of the doors, ducks inside, and scrawls his name inside one of the little boxes. He’s about to turn around and leave when he hears a shrill scream. He whips around, searching for the screamer, but there’s no one around. He listens closely for a second, and follows the sound to the air duct. The sound is travelling through the ducts, which means the screamer could be _anywhere_ on this level, or the one above it.

“Shit,” Bellamy says and bolts from the room, following the ducts in the ceiling down the hall. Eventually, the screaming stops and he’s left wandering the hall without any sense of direction, but he keeps searching and searching until he bumps into someone in a tattered suit.

Bellamy’s about to ask if this guy heard the screaming, but there’s something about the way the man won’t quite meet Bellamy’s gaze that sends off alarms in his head. _Don’t do anything stupid_ , Bellamy warns himself.

“Lost, are you?” the man asks, a crooked smile on his face. It seems forced.

“A little,” Bellamy admits, pretending to be sheepish.

“The main elevator is that way,” the man says and points down one of the branching halls.

Bellamy nods and says, “Thank you, um…”

“Cage,” the man offers. “Cage Wallace.”

Bellamy’s blood freezes. “You’re the President’s son?”

“That I am,” Cage says, sounding a little strained.

“Well, thanks for the help,” Bellamy says and strides towards the elevator, all too aware of the way Cage watches him go.

*

Bellamy walks over to Clarke as she’s eating dinner with Finn. He’s still in his cleaning uniform and probably smells pretty gross, but the scream is echoing in his head over and over again, and he needs to talk to Clarke. He’s decided that Cage must’ve heard the scream: if he was on that level then he heard it just like Bellamy did, but Cage did not seem to be that concerned. Nervous, yes, but not concerned. And not to mention the fact that he was the _President’s son_ , which really could only spell trouble. They didn’t need anymore Wallaces keeping tabs on them.

When Bellamy approaches Clarke and Finn’s table, Clarke is sighing in exasperation.

“Look, Finn, I just don’t think it’s a good idea to be meeting with President Wallace all the time. You don’t know what he’s planning.”

Finn narrows his eyes. “Yes, I do. He’s planning on quickly destroying the Grounder army so there won’t be any more war.”

“He’s got to destroy that army somehow, though.”

“And once he does, there will be peace.”

“After the slaughter of the Grounders, so they can’t fight back.”

“Why are _you_ defending the Grounders all of a sudden?” Finn spits, his cheeks red with anger. “Last time I checked, you were the one who said we needed to protect ourselves by fighting back.”

Clarke sighs again. “I’m just saying we shouldn’t trust President Wallace with this stuff.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t trust him!” Clarke shouts.

“Well, I do!” Finn shouts back.

Bellamy clears his throat and says, “If you guys want to keep it quiet…” He gestures to the prying glares Clarke and Finn have attracted from the rest of the diners.

But Clarke isn’t done. “Why do you trust him, Finn? He locked us up, and now he’s watching over us and—”

“He’s just trying to protect his people,” Finn says, holding Clarke’s gaze.

She grounds her teeth. “I don’t think that’s all he’s doing,” she says. “He’s hiding something.”

Finn rolls his eyes. “Well, then, what—?”

Bellamy finally sits down, sending a glare over to Finn to get him to stop talking. “Look, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I really need to talk to you, Clarke,” he says.

She looks over and meets Bellamy’s eyes. She must see the worry and urgency in them, because she nods solemnly and pushes out of her chair. Bellamy makes the mistake of glancing over at Finn, who is clenching his jaw in obvious anger.

Clarke notices, too. “Finn, we can talk about this later, okay? Just—just think about what I said.”

Finn leans back in his chair as Clarke picks up her plate and starts to walk away. “Fine, yeah, sure, whatever.” He crosses his arms over his chest as Bellamy and Clarke turn away.

“What’s going on?” she asks once they’re outside the dining hall and walking back to the barracks.

“I heard someone screaming in the lower levels today,” he says. “And then I ran into a completely unruffled Cage _Wallace_.”

Clarke’s eyes widen. “The President’s son?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re sure he heard the screams?”

“Almost one hundred percent. I saw him a few seconds after the last scream ended.”

Clarke exhales and pushes some hair behind her ear. “Who could’ve been screaming down there?”

“I don’t know, but if high-ranking officials are fine with it, it can’t be good.”

“You think they’re torturing Grounders or something?” Clarke asks.

Bellamy shrugs. “Maybe. But I think we should try and find out.” He pauses as a couple walks passed them. He leans down closer to Clarke’s ear when he whispers, “If we can find proof that the Mountain Men are up to something shady, then maybe we can convince everyone it isn’t safe to stay.”

Clarke nods, but it’s noncommittal. “Finn thinks everything is right as rain.”

Bellamy clicks his tongue in agitation. “President Wallace has already gotten in his head.”

“Maybe,” Clarke admits. “Or maybe he’s just desperate to find any sort of strategy for peace.”

“Either way, we’ve gotta prove this Mountain isn’t just some safe haven,” Bellamy says, hardening his voice.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Clarke says. She squares her shoulders and says, “You think we should try and find the source of the scream?”

Bellamy’s eyes blaze when he says, “Yeah. Tonight.”


	9. The Cages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT this one's kinda long, but i think you'll enjoy. finally a bellarke moment, maybe? huge thank you to everyone who comments on these chapters, it honestly means the world to me and i love all of you :)

“Do you think they have guards roaming the lower levels at all hours?” Clarke whispers to Bellamy as they slink down the hallway, clinging close to the walls.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe, if they’re hiding something like a Grounder torture chamber.”

Clarke purses her lips. “What if we see a guard?”

“Then we hide.” Bellamy glances over his shoulder at Clarke, who is following him so closely that he can practically feel her hovering over him.

“And if there’s no where to hide?”

He lets out a tired breath. “We’ll figure it out, Clarke.”

She accepts this answer, and they keep moving. They have to be careful to stay in the shadows, because there are cameras set up everywhere, and someone could be watching. So they keep to the walls, and they keep their heads down in the lighter spots, and they hope no one is paying attention.

Bellamy pulls out his keycard as they near the elevators. Clarke stops him just before he presses it to the sensor.

“Wait! Don’t they keep tabs on the keycards?”

“Yeah, but we’ll have to use it eventually to get in all the rooms on Level Eight.”

Clarke raises her eyebrows and says, “Do we really?” as she pulls another keycard out of the pocket in her hoodie.

Bellamy’s eyes widen. “What did you do to get this? And when? How?”

She laughs quietly. “I _accidentally_ crashed into a guard just before bed, and my hand happened to end up in the exact pocket where he kept his card.”

Bellamy fights off a rush of pride as possible problems settle in his mind. “Won’t he have noticed his missing keycard? They can turn off the keys whenever they want,” he adds.

Clarke shrugs. “He probably noticed, and they might’ve turned it off, but maybe they just thought he harmlessly lost it, and there was no reason to deactivate it.” She leans closer to press the card against the sensor. “Worth a shot at least, right?”

Amazingly, the sensor flashes green and the elevator door opens. Bellamy grins at Clarke, who grins back.

“Well, Clarke Griffin, you’re quite the little thief, aren’t you?” he laughs.

“When I have to be,” she says breezily. They climb into the elevator and press the button for the eighth level, where Bellamy heard the scream earlier that day.

When they reach Level Eight, Bellamy and Clarke both look at each other before exiting the elevator. He’s overcome with a feeling of trust as he stares right into Clarke’s eyes, the grin fading from her lips. She’s the only person in this entire mountain he’s confiding in right now, and he couldn’t feel more at ease with that decision. He didn’t know exactly when it happened, but he realized then that Clarke was the only other person besides Octavia that he totally and completed trusted.

“Ready?” she asks, still holding his gaze.

He nods. “Let’s do it.” They step through the elevator together, new resolve hardening in their chests.

The hall is empty, and a lot darker than the other level. There is only a flickering fluorescent light on this level, and it puts Bellamy’s mind slightly at ease. It’ll be harder to identify them with only a little light. They creep down the hall, Bellamy pointing out where to turn based on where he remembers the scream sounding the loudest.

“It could’ve honestly been coming from any place on this level,” he admits as they round another bend.

“We’ll keep looking until we find something.” She brushes her arm reassuringly against his, and he feels his mind calm down at the same time his heart rate picks up.

For the next few hours, they go in and out of locked rooms, searching for a clue or a piece of the puzzle, but they find nothing. They keep waiting for the keycard to deactivate, leaving them stuck in some office or whatever, but the sensor keeps turning green and they keep on searching. It’s boring work, especially when it could all be for nothing. Maybe Bellamy heard a fluke, or something totally explainable. But there’s a bad feeling roiling around in his gut, and he can’t shake the instinct that something bad is happening inside Mount Weather.

At around three a.m., Bellamy yawns as Clarke swipes the card against the sensor. “Only a few doors left, and then we’ll have combed this entire level,” he says wearily. Tiredness is draping around him.

There are deep circles under Clarke’s eyes and her footsteps are beginning to shuffle. They’re both exhausted. “If we get through this whole level and find nothing, we’ll check the next one tomorrow night, all right?” she says.

Bellamy groans internally, not looking forward to another sleepless night, but he knows it’s what he needs to do.

As they step through the door and into what seems to be a regular office, they both freeze when they hear whimpering. Their ears perk up, and they scour the room for the source of the sound. They should probably have been more careful, but they tear the room apart as they search high and low for whatever—whoever—is making the noise. When Bellamy leans close to another door practically hidden in the back of the room, the whimpers get louder and he calls Clarke over. They both press their ears to the door, listening, and facing each other. Their faces are not even three inches apart. Bellamy’s breath catches once as he notices how close he is to Clarke, but then he focuses on the soft crying coming from behind the door.

He pulls back from the door and looks for a sensor, but he can’t find one.

“Shit,” he mutters. “Clarke, we can’t use the keycard for this door. We need an actual key.”

He can practically see the gears whirring in Clarke’s brain as she searches for a solution. Her eyes flash. “Do you know how to pick a lock?”

He nods, and it clicks. “They taught us in cadet training.”

She peels away from the door and starts opening cupboards and drawers frantically. “Then look for something you can use, and then we’ll be able to get inside.”

It doesn’t take long for Bellamy to find a small box of what’s labeled as paperclips. There was no need for paperclips on the Ark since everything was digital, but Mount Weather must’ve kept some old office supplies stocked. In any case, Bellamy can use one of the paperclips to pick the lock.

“Clarke!” he stage whispers, and she looks up from the drawer she was rummaging through.

“Find something?” she asks.

He holds up the paperclip as he makes his way back to the door. “I think this’ll work.”

Clarke presses close to Bellamy as he starts to work the lock, and she even puts her hand on his arm and squeezes in encouragement. Bellamy kind of wants to tell her to let go, because how the hell is he supposed to focus on anything else besides her if she keeps her hand there? But he finds himself relaxing into her touch, and he eventually is able to keep working while reveling in how it feels to have Clarke gripping his bicep.

After a few minutes of maneuvering, the lock makes a satisfying _click_ as it opens, and Bellamy lets out a long breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He takes another second to steel himself, and then he gently pushes open the door with Clarke sticking right at his back. He wishes again that he had some kind of weapon besides the paperclip in his hand, because they could honestly be facing anything as they walk through that door.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he sees.

He and Clarke walk out onto what seems to be an observation booth, which looks over a giant room filled to the brim with cages. Inside the cages, there are half-naked people crouched and huddled; some are crying, and some are whispering to each other, and some are just staring intensely at the metal encasing them.

Clarke gasps as she comes to stand beside Bellamy. He can’t think of anything to say as he notices two upside down figures hanging from the ceiling. There are IVs snaking down their bodies, and Bellamy can see something red in the tubes.

“Is that…?” he trails off before finishing the thought.

“Blood,” Clarke says, gritting her teeth. “They’re draining people for their blood.”

“They must be Grounders,” Bellamy thinks aloud.

“Why would the Mountain Men need Grounder blood?” Clarke questions, her eyes still darting across the room, trying to take everything in.

“What does it matter?” Bellamy practically growls, heat rushing through his veins. “This proves that the Mountain Men are shady and we need to get everyone _out of here_!”

Clarke swallows hard and meets Bellamy’s eyes. “You think we could be next?” she asks, her voice small.

Bellamy finds himself cracking, the rage he feels completely tearing him apart. “We _won’t be_ , because we’re getting everyone far away from this shitty mountain before they can do anything.”

“Okay,” she says. “We’ll start preparing tomorrow.”

“We should tell everyone tonight,” Bellamy says. “We’ll wake them up when we get back.”

“You think—”

“We shouldn’t waste any more time,” Bellamy continues. “Who knows when they could be scheduling us for draining?”

Clarke bites her lip and nods curtly. “What are we supposed to do right now? Should we try and get down there? Let them out of their cages?”

Bellamy pauses to think. He looks out over the dozens and dozens of cages, and his heart drops right from his chest. All of these people were being tortured on a daily basis, right under their noses. They didn’t take action soon enough, they should’ve started searching for trouble the second they decided Mount Weather wasn’t to be trusted. How many people had been bled dry since they arrived? How many people could they have saved?

Bellamy closes his eyes as he thinks, _could we even have saved any of them?_ They still haven’t figured out any ways to get out of the mountain, besides the obvious main door on the first level. But ever since Clarke got there and almost opened the door, it has been heavily guarded. It’d be impossible to get past all the guards. They have no escape route, no plan, nothing. If they let out all the Grounders from their cages, they’d have no idea where to send them and it would give away the fact that Bellamy and Clarke are aware of the cages.

Bellamy sighs and turns to Clarke just as she raises her eyes to his. He can see by the crease in her forehead and the pain in her eyes that she’s reached the same conclusion as he did.

“We’ll come back for the Grounders,” he promises. “We’ll get them out of here, once we figure out an exit route.”

“We’d better hurry,” Clarke says, looking up at him with the fiercest eyes he’s ever seen.

Just then, Bellamy hears distant voices. He freezes.

_Did you hear that?_ he mouths to Clarke, whose face is paling as she nods. They hear a door creaking open below them as someone enters the room of cages, and panic sweeps over Bellamy.

He locks his gaze with Clarke’s for a second, and they decide in a split second what they need to do: run like hell. Clarke darts through the door first and Bellamy follows, and without thinking he pulls the door closed behind him. _Slam!_ Bellamy cringes, cursing himself over and over again as one voice rings out, “Hey, someone’s up there!”

“Shit!” he cries. “Run faster, Clarke!”

So they sprint out of the office and down the hall towards the elevator. So far, no one has started following them, but Bellamy isn’t counting on that staying true. He’s breathing hard as he pumps his legs, forcing himself to race even faster down the hall. When they reach the elevator, neither of them actually slow down and they practically smash right into the wall. Clarke frantically pulls out the keycard and swipes it over the sensor, which mercifully flashes green. They scramble into the elevator and can just start to hear footsteps pounding down the hall as the doors slide closed.

Bellamy starts to reach for the button for the Fifth Level, which is where the dorms are, before Clarke grabs his hand to stop him.

“Bring us up to Level Four, and then we’ll get off and use the stairs to get to the fifth level,” she says through pants. “That way, they won’t follow us to the fifth level.”

“Smart,” Bellamy says and presses the Fourth Level button.

The ride up is too short, and Clarke drops the keycard on the floor of the elevator just before she steps out.

“They won’t be able to trace it back to us, hopefully,” she says as they leap through the doors.

They sprint as fast as they can up the stairs, and Bellamy can feel sweat starting to form on his forehead. He can feel it collecting under his armpits and at the back of his neck, too, and he focuses on that as he runs instead of the burning in his lungs and legs. When they get to the entrance to Level Five, they stop to catch their breath before pushing through the door. In case anyone is watching, they don’t want to look like they were just running for their lives.

As Bellamy pants, hunched over with his hands braced on his knees, Clarke says between breaths of her own, “You think they’ll be able to tell it was us from the cameras?”

Bellamy hadn’t thought about the cameras.

“Maybe,” he replies, dread tightening his chest. “But also maybe not.” And that’s the best he’s got.

After a few minutes, and once they both get their breathing under control, they open the door to the fifth level and find it utterly empty. They walk quietly and cautiously towards the dorm, keeping to the shadows again, when they hear footsteps.

“It sounds like just one guard,” Bellamy whispers to Clarke. “Not as many as were just downstairs.”

“You think we can make it to the dorms before he sees us?” Clarke asks.

“Probably not. Is there anywhere we can hide?”

Clarke winces as she looks around frantically. There are no corners to turn, only locked doors. “Not if you don’t want to use your own keycard.”

“It’s better than getting caught out in the open,” he says and pulls out his card. He presses it against the scanner, but it flashes red. His stomach drops. Did they deactivate it? Do they know exactly who was just poking around on Level Eight?

_Wait_ , Bellamy reminds himself. _Your card is only programmed for the lower levels._

“Bellamy?” Clarke cries, panic in her voice. “Why isn’t it working?”

“My card only works on scanners in the lower levels, because that’s where I was assigned cleaning duty. There’s no need for me to be able to access whatever door I want in the whole stupid mountain.”

“Fuck,” Clarke breathes. “I shouldn’t’ve left the other guard’s card in the elevator.”

Bellamy kicks at the door, fear swelling in his chest. The inevitable is becoming obvious: they’re going to get caught, and they’re not going to have a good explanation for why they’re sneaking around in the middle of the night. It’ll be too easy to connect the dots.

Bellamy looks down at Clarke, and suddenly an idea pops into his head. He almost discards it, but the guard’s footsteps are approaching, and right now he and Clarke are just standing there like sitting ducks. They could run back for the stairs, but the guard would hear them and probably chase them; he’d catch them before they made it to the dorms; they can’t get into any of the other doors. This is the only possible solution Bellamy has left.

He takes a step closer to Clarke and lifts his hand to cup her cheek. She stiffens, but he can feel the blush on her cheeks through his fingertips.

“What are you—?”

“Just trust me,” Bellamy whispers as he lowers his mouth down to Clarke’s.

It’s a bit hesitant at first as Bellamy doesn’t want to push her too far, but with the guard’s footsteps echoing in their ears, Bellamy can feel Clarke make the connection and he knows she understands what he’s doing. They’ll just look like a couple of kids making out in the hall when no one is watching. So Clarke adds intensity to the kiss, and she presses her mouth harder against Bellamy’s. Her mouth opens under his, and Bellamy can feel something he’s fought hard to ignore stirring wildly in his stomach. Her hands are roving over his body, and she finally ends up bringing them to his head so she can dig her fingers into his hair.

Bellamy moans, kind of losing himself in the taste of Clarke’s lips and the smell of her sweaty skin pressed up against his. He moves his hands from her cheeks to her waist, where he starts to play with the ends of her shirt. His fingers brush against the skin of her waist as he lifts her shirt up a little, and this time it’s Clarke who moans. Bellamy can’t tell anymore how much of this is for show, and how much this is just him wanting to kiss and touch and be close to Clarke.

It’s the moment when Clarke starts to suck on his bottom lip that pushes Bellamy over the edge, and he’s about to scoop Clarke up into his arms and press her against the wall to kiss her harder when a harsh light shines in his face.

He and Clarke break apart, but they stay wrapped up in each other’s arms as the guard shines his flashlight over them. He’s obviously less than impressed and mutters angrily, “You kids need to get to bed. Right now.”

Clarke clears her throat and straightens her shirt as the guard starts to turn back around. He sends them one more glare over his shoulder before he starts to march in the other direction, grumbling to himself about stupid kids.

In the quiet that follows, Bellamy listens to his and Clarke’s laboured breathing. They’re out of breath for a completely different reason this time.

Bellamy looks over at Clarke, a blush on his cheeks, and sees her absently running her fingers over her swollen lips. He swallows hard, trying not to think about how badly he just wants to kiss her again. She feels him staring and looks up, her eyes alert and her lips parted.

“Bellamy…”

He grins, despite the nervousness he feels. “That was pretty genius, right?”

She laughs. “Right.”

Neither of them is completely successful in pushing away the thought that that kiss was _really good._

They start heading towards the dorm, both feeling light and giddy until the second they see the doors to the dorm. The full weight of the discovery they made that night settles back on both of them, and the excitement dies quickly. Fear replaces it as soon as they open the doors and find Cage Wallace waiting for them.


	10. Fighting Gets You Nowhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im having way too much fun writing this story, so i hope you're all enjoying reading it!! :) as always, let me know what you think about this chapter and also where you think it could go next!

Guards swarm Bellamy and Clarke immediately, grabbing onto their upper arms with rough hands and shoving them against the walls. Cage sits with his ankle resting on his knee, looking absolutely smug. He rubs his chin as the guards shove Bellamy and Clarke’s faces harder against the wall, scraping their cheeks and leaving behind smears of blood.

They’re only about fifteen feet away from all of their sleeping friends, so Clarke starts to scream as loud as she can. The kids are so close—if she could wake them up, they could see for themselves how messed up Mount Weather is. Her throat burns as she screams so loud it feels like she’s shredding her vocal chords, but that’s nothing compared to the bleary pain of the guard smashing her skull against the wall to shut her up. She exhales a gasp of pain and sags against the wall, and Bellamy feels terror gripping him tighter.

“Clarke?” he shouts over his shoulder, ignoring the angry guard pushing his face harder against the wall in response. “Are you okay!?” Even Bellamy can hear the angry desperation in his voice.

“I-I’m fine, I’m okay,” she tells him, but her voice is scratchy and shaky.

Bellamy can just see Cage out of the corner of his eye from where he is, so he fixes his furious gaze on him when he grounds out, “I swear to God—”

“Save your bravado for someone with more time to waste,” Cage says brusquely.

Bellamy doesn’t respond well to that. “I’ll start screaming, those kids won’t sleep through everything.”

Cage shrugs. “Go ahead, but don’t you think if it were possible, Clarke’s scream would’ve already woken them?”

Bellamy had considered that, but he didn’t want to think about what it meant.

“What the hell did you do to them?” he hears Clarke demand, her voice sounding stronger already.

Cage scoffs. “You didn’t actually think I’d ambush you in the dorms without making sure there’d be no witnesses, right?”

Gut-wrenching fear is coiling itself around Bellamy’s throat, making it hard to swallow and breathe. It’s not helping that the guard is pressing Bellamy so tightly against the wall that his lungs feel crushed. The names and lives of all the delinquents in the mountain are rushing through his brain, and he feels a mounting sense of loss building in his chest as he thinks about how they’re probably dead. Cage probably had them all killed while he and Clarke ran around the lower levels, thinking they were clever and evasive when they were really just stupid.

They fucked up, and now everyone was dead because of them.

Angry tears are threatening to spill over Bellamy’s eyes as he spits at Cage, “Answer the fucking question: _what did you do to them_?”

There’s a horrible beat where Cage says nothing and Bellamy feels himself collapsing, but then he says, “We gassed them. They’ll wake up right as rain in about three hours.”

Bellamy sighs shortly in relief and hears Clarke do the same.

Cage says to the guards, “Let’s go,” and they respond immediately by yanking Bellamy and Clarke off the walls.

Bellamy takes a look at Clarke—at her scraped and bloody cheek, at the welt forming on the crown of her head, and the swollenness of her eyes—and white-hot anger surges through him. He and Clarke exchange looks and nod solemnly once before starting to resist their arrest.

Bellamy leans backward and smashes the back of his head against the nose of his guard, and when the guard’s grip loosens on impact, he kicks hard and launches himself forward. He glances over and sees Clarke biting down on her guard’s forearm, and he’s shrieking in pain. Her mouth is dripping with blood when she lets go and then elbows him sharply in the gut. She looks over at Bellamy and he registers that she’s widening her eyes in shock, but before he can process anything he hears a gun cocking right next to his head and he freezes.

“You two are fighters,” Cage says, his voice low with barely-contained rage. “Almost makes me think I should assign you to the Cerberus program.”

Bellamy locks eyes with Clarke and tries to tell her to run before the guards lick their wounds and grab them again, but she shakes her head almost imperceptibly and plants her feet. He clenches his jaw and nervously darts his eyes to the groaning guards, who are slowly working their way back over to Bellamy, Clarke and Cage. But Clarke just gives Bellamy a stubborn look that simply says, I _’m not going anywhere if it’s going to get you shot._

And then the guards are grabbing her arms again and Bellamy feels those rough hands clamp around him, and it’s too late. Cage lowers his gun, but doesn’t uncock it.

“If you men would do your jobs, please,” he says, glowering. “Get these two to the harvest chamber.”

*

As the Mountain Men spray Clarke with searing hot water, she clenches her muscles and squeezes her eyes shut. She tries to bite her tongue to keep from screaming, but the water feels like it’s hot enough to melt her skin right off and she shrieks in pain. She knows Bellamy is only a few meters from where she’s standing, but he feels a million miles away and she can’t hear him over her own screams.

*

Bellamy isn’t screaming so much as groaning in pain, so he can hear Clarke yelling next to him. He doesn’t know which is worse, the blistering heat of the water or the sound of Clarke screaming in agony. He feels his heart breaking over and over until the Mountain Men spray him with some sort of powder, and it _burns_ , and he can’t hold back the screams anymore.

*

Clarke wakes up disoriented. Her head hurts, her throat is killing her, and she doesn’t know where she is. Cold metal is digging into her flesh, and as her eyes adjust to the lack of light, she realizes she’s in a cage. Panic takes hold immediately, and she starts to bang on the cage, feeling her heart rate accelerating when the metal doesn’t give.

“Holy shit,” she whispers, clutching the bars and shaking them with all her might. She can feel terror settling in the pit of her stomach when the bars don’t budge.

The Grounders in the surrounding cages start to hiss at her, probably telling her to shut up, but she just keeps yanking at the bars desperately. _This can’t be happening_ , she whispers to herself. It was only a few hours ago that she and Bellamy pretended to be asleep in their beds in the dorm, and now she was holding back terrified tears in a cramped cage.

 _Bellamy!_ She’d momentarily forgotten about him, and kicks herself for it. _Where is he?_

Clarke lets go of the bars and starts to scan the harvest chamber for him. She looks into the cage directly to her right and sees a shirtless, unconscious form splayed out. She can’t see his face, but she can tell pretty much immediately that it’s Bellamy from his unruly dark curls. Her heart aches as she notes the red patches on his skin, and looks down and sees they match her own burns.

“Bellamy,” she whispers forcefully. She tries to stick her hand through the gaps in the bars to reach him, but he’s too far away and the gaps are too thin. “Bellamy,” she says a little louder.

He shifts his head slightly and mumbles, “Clarke, that you?”

She breaks out into a relieved smile. “Yeah, it’s me. Wake up faster, please.”

She watches him start to sit up and take in his surroundings, the grogginess shifting to confusion then finally to bleak understanding.

“We’re in the harvest chamber?” he asks, his voice trembling. With rage or fear, Clarke isn’t sure.

She nods and grasps one of the bars connecting their cages for support. “I’ve been trying to get out, but it’s obviously not working,” she says. “Bellamy, we’re trapped.”

Bellamy lifts his hand and wraps his fingers around hers, but doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing _to_ say.

“They’re going to drain us,” Clarke says and looks out at the two bodies hanging upside down in the middle of the chamber.

Bellamy tightens his hold on Clarke’s hand. “We’ll fight. If they try to take us, we’ll fight.”

“You don’t think others have tried?” she asks quietly. “You think all of these people willingly let themselves get strung up like that?”

Bellamy falls silent again for a moment, but finally just says again, “We’ll try anyways.”

Clarke looks at Bellamy then, and catches the petrified look his eyes before he turns away. She shivers and hugs her arms to her chest, which is when she realizes she’s only wearing underwear. Her cheeks burn as she thinks about Bellamy sitting so close to her, also wearing nothing but underwear. There isn’t much room in her brain to think about how good Bellamy looks with no shirt, but for a fleeting moment she feels blushy and embarrassed as she thinks about him.

The moment ends pretty swiftly when two people in hazmat suits enter the harvest chamber. They let down the Grounders hanging from the ceiling and put them back in cages, making sure to lock the doors tightly. Clarke and Bellamy both shrink to the back of their own cages, not wanting to draw any attention to themselves. Clarke notices almost all of the Grounders around her doing the same as the two people start to scour the seemingly endless sea of cages, looking for their next victims. Clarke holds her breath when they pass by her cage. They don’t even pause to consider her, and she breathes a sigh of relief.

A few rows past her, though, she hears a cage being unlocked. She listens as the Grounder struggles with the two hazmat suits, and then she hears an electric shock and the Grounder falls silent. Clarke exchanges a worried look with Bellamy: shock treatments are a pretty effective way to stun people so they can’t fight. Clarke helplessly watches the now subdued Grounder get dragged to the middle of the chamber, knowing that it could happen to her at anytime and she won’t be able to stop it. There’s no amount of _fighting_ that could save her. She shivers again.


	11. Leaders or Martyrs?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW IM AWFUL i suck at updating, but here is the next installment! i will do my best to write the next chapter in a more timely fashion, and we're nearing the end (sort of) as always, feedback is super appreciated!!!!!

It’s been two days since Clarke and Bellamy have disappeared, and the delinquents are freaking out. Finn doesn’t like the panicky looks people keep exchanging with each other, like they’re getting ready to bolt or something. What he likes even less is people acting like he doesn’t care about Clarke or Bellamy because he isn’t panicking.

“You don’t even seem all that bothered by their disappearance,” Fox spat in his face earlier that morning. “You’re probably glad they’re missing so you don’t have to deal with their disapproving looks.” Fox curled her lip. “You’ve been on the outs with them since you took Dante’s deal, and now you don’t care about them at all.”

Finn tried not to, but he blew up.

“I care just as much as you do, Fox!” he shouted. “I probably care more! Clarke is—” he stops himself, not knowing what Clarke is to him anymore. He starts again. “They’re my friends, too, and I’m worried about them.”

Fox crossed her arms. “Then do something about it.”

So he was doing something about it, or at least he was going to do something once the war meeting was over. He was seated with President Wallace and his son, and about six of the guards. It was an Essential Personal Only meeting and, since Finn had first hand knowledge about the Grounders, he was essential personnel.

“I just think that if we want the Grounders to know we’re serious about finding tentative peace, we need to show them how powerful we are first,” a guard named Emerson was saying.

“And what would that accomplish?” President Wallace asks, his mouth a thin line.

Emerson throws up his hands. “How about let them know that we’re a serious threat and could wipe them off the map in a heartbeat, but instead we want to find peace and they should listen!”

President Wallace rubs his chin and looks to Finn. “What do you think? Would a demonstration of our power make the Grounders more inclined to want to make peace?”

Finn shakes his head, clearing his thoughts about where Clarke and Bellamy could be for the moment. “No. We tried that once, and all it did was injure their people and make them hate us more.”

Emerson sits back in his chair. “And what would you suggest then? All you do is shoot down other ideas.”

Finn licks his lips. “I think instead of showing them you could destroy them, you need to give them something that they want. Do you have any technology you think they’d want?” Finn looks around and notices everyone’s faces go stony.

President Wallace clears his throat. “Yes, I’m sure we could think of a few things they might want.”

Finn nods and says, “I suggest starting there. Set up a meeting or something, and offer whatever they want in exchange for peace.”

Something beeps, and Cage Wallace looks down at a tablet. He reads whatever notification has popped up, and starts to push himself away from the table.

“Sorry, everyone, but I’ve got something to take care of.” Cage slips out quietly, and Finn wonders where he’s headed.

“Well, at any rate, I’d call this meeting a success,” the President says and gives Finn a smile. “Great work, everyone. Next time we’ll discuss what we can offer the Grounders.”

Taking their cue, everyone starts to stand and leave the meeting room. Finn catches up with President Wallace as he starts to walk back to his office.

“Mind if I talk with you about something, sir?” he asks. Yes, that’s right, he’s taken to calling Wallace _sir_.

“Of course, Finn,” President Wallace says. “What’s troubling you?”

Finn lowers his voice slightly. “Well, it’s been about forty-eight hours since anyone last saw my friends Clarke and Bellamy, and everyone’s worried about where they might be.” Finn watches the President’s face closely when he asks, “You haven’t detained them or anything, have you?”

President Wallace’s face grows solemn. “No, I haven’t even spoken to either of them since Bellamy’s trial. I’m sure they’re fine, but if you would like I can put out a search detail for them?”

Finn sighs in relief. “Yes, thank you, that would be helpful.”

President Wallace gives Finn a small smile. “I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

“I appreciate it, sir,” Finn says.

He strolls back to the dorms, feeling lighter knowing that they’ll eventually be able to find Clarke and Bellamy. Finn has gotten pretty good at reading the president’s facial expressions and he didn’t look like he was lying, so Finn trusts him. Where could they have even gone? No alarms went off, so they must still be in the Mountain, and there are only so many places to hide in an enclosed environment. Yes, Finn feels a lot better as he makes his way to the dorm, but his good mood evaporates the second he walks through the dorm doors.

It’s utter chaos. Kids are running around and yelling at each other, some are crying, and some are just sitting on their beds staring into space. Finn doesn’t know what to do.

“Finn!” he hears someone call. Fox runs up to him, Miller behind her.

“What the hell’s going on?” Finn shouts.

Fox’s lip trembles. “It’s Harper. She’s missing now, too.”

Finn feels a chill run down his spine.

Miller meets his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest, his jaw set. “Three missing people is a pattern.”

“Did the President say anything when you talked to him?” Fox asks, grabbing Finn’s arm. Her eyes are big and full of worry.

Finn looks away. “He seemed completely normal. When I told him Clarke and Bellamy were missing, he said he’d send some people to look for them.”

“You believe him?” Miller asks, his eyes surveying Finn.

Finn nods. “Yeah, he seemed sincere.”

Miller accepts this, and the three of them turn to look at the rest of the kids running around in a panic.

“We need to find them,” Finn says. “Before anyone else goes missing.”

*

When Clarke sees the Mountain Men dragging a girl with red hair across the floor, her chest heaves with recognition.

“Bellamy,” she whispers, her throat clogging up.

“What is it?” he asks, but his question is answered quickly when Harper is dragged right in front of their cages for them to see.

“Harper!” he shouts and presses himself against the cage.

She’s limp in the arms of the Mountain Men, but she’s awake. Tears are streaming down her cheeks, and there are burns all up and down her body from where the water must have scalded her. She’s also got a cut on her forehead that suggests she was knocked unconscious.

“Harper, are you okay?” Bellamy barks, gruff. Clarke looks at him, looks at the desperation in his eyes and the almost feral protection he has for his people. Her chest aches and watches Harper whimper a reply.

“No,” she says, her voice wavering and on the verge of tears. “So this is where you guys have been the past few days?”

Bellamy nods solemnly. “Is anyone looking for us?”

“Yes, everyone is worried and—ow!” she cries as the Mountain Man yanks her again, effectively saying their conversation is over.

“We’ll get you out of here, Harper!” Bellamy shouts after her, and Clarke clenches her hands around her cage bar as she thinks, _How in the world are we going to manage that?_

“No, Bellamy, I don’t think you will,” Cage says, suddenly appearing in front of their cages. Clarke leans back, wondering how she hadn’t heard him walk up.

Clarke can feel the rage pouring off of Bellamy. “Listen you son of a bitch, I promise you, I will not be stuck in this cage forever.” He presses even closer to the cage, the metal digging into his skin. “You can’t stop me.”

Clarke is almost convinced by the confidence in his voice and pride swells in her chest until Cage starts to laugh quietly.

“You’re very brave, Bellamy, I’ll give you that,” he says and shakes his head. “But you’re wrong.”

“Like hell I am.”

Cage shrugs. “You are if you don’t want any more friends of yours to get hurt.”

Clarke freezes, and she can feel Bellamy tense beside her. “What?” she asks, breathless.

Cage is smug and Clarke wants to punch him. “You heard me.” He leans closer to their cages, taunting them because they can’t get him even when he’s so close. “I will keep dragging your friends in here, one by one, until every single one of them is bled dry. Unless, of course, you stay in your cages and play your parts.”

“Our parts as blood bags?” Bellamy growls, his voice heavy.

Cage shrugs. “I prefer the term blood donor, but essentially, yes.”

“Why us?” Clarke asks, her voice hardening with anger. “Why are you going to hurt everyone else based on what me and Bellamy do?”

“You two are troublemakers,” Cage says simply. “Clarke, you almost killed Maya the first day you were here, and Bellamy, you escaped quarantine. Not to mention you were snooping around looking for this place the other night.” Cage grins. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? You two wanted to find this room so badly, and now you’re trapped like everyone else who comes in here.” He laughs.

“What about Finn?” Bellamy asks. “He was with me when I broke out of quarantine.”

Cage waves his hand. “Finn and my father are keeping each other occupied.”

“The President doesn’t know you’re detaining us?”

Cage grins again. “Nope. This is all me.”

Clarke sits back, hopelessness starting to weigh her down. If they want to keep their friends safe, they need to let themselves get tortured for who knows how long. Until they die, probably. She turns and meets Bellamy’s eyes, which are burning with ferocity. She knows he doesn’t want to sit idly by, but she also knows he doesn’t want anyone else to get hurt because of him. His face softens for a moment, and she wants to reach out and stroke his cheek and comfort him somehow. She thinks back to the kiss they shared a few nights before, and how she felt while she was pressed up against him, and how the cage separating them is really frustrating. She shakes her head. _Focus, Clarke,_ she scolds herself.

A distressed scream echoes from down the room, and Cage leans back to see what the commotion is. Another infuriating smile is on his lips when he informs them, “Looks like they’re stringing Harper up for her first drain right now.”

Clarke sees Bellamy’s face harden again. “If we agree to do whatever you say, will you let her go?” Clarke can hear the pain in his voice.

“It’s too late for Harper, she’ll be staying down here with you guys,” Cage says. “But there’s forty-nine other people you can save.”

Clarke knows before Bellamy says anything that he’ll agree to Cage’s terms. It’s worth it to save anyone.

“You people are twisted,” he says. “No wonder the Grounders don’t want to make peace. You’re torturing hundreds of their people!”

Cage shrugs. “Peace treaties aren’t my main concern. That’s what my father is worried about.”

One of the Mountain Men walks over to Cage and whispers something in his ear, and Clarke’s stomach churns as another cruel smile curls onto Cage’s lips.

“Well, I’ve just been informed that we have a spot for another _blood donor_ right now.” He steps closer. “If you’re both willing to stick to my conditions about saving your people, one of you needs to volunteer to be drained.” Clarke’s world spins. “Who’s it going to be?”

Bellamy and Clarke exchange a look, and she can see it plainly on his face that he’s going to volunteer himself. She thinks about the last time he sacrificed himself to save someone else, back at the dropship when the Grounders were attacking. He almost got burned to death and Clarke was almost the one to do it. She wouldn’t let him take the fall this time.

“I’ll do it,” she says, just a second faster than Bellamy says, “Take me.”

“My, my,” Cage says. “Such eager prisoners all of a sudden.” He gestures at Clarke to the Mountain Man still standing there, waiting for orders. Clarke’s heart is pounding. “Take her.”

“No!” Bellamy roars, and he grabs onto the cage bars and starts to shake them as hard as he can. It accomplishes nothing. “Clarke, don’t do this! Let me!” The desperation in his voice feels like a vice around Clarke’s heart.

She doesn’t dare to look over at him as the Mountain Man starts to unlock her cage and Bellamy keeps shaking his cage.

“LEAVE HER ALONE!” he yells, his voice already going hoarse.

“Bellamy, she made her own choice,” Cage says. “Now she’s got to deal with that choice.”

As the Mountain Man unlocks her cage and gestures for Clarke to step out, Clarke thinks back to the first few moments she and Bellamy found themselves in the cages. They vowed to fight until their last breath to escape, and do whatever it took. And now that the option to fight is in front of her, and the Mountain Man doesn’t even have a taser to stun her if she attacks, Clarke feels the pull to fight deep in her gut. She considers it: she could probably take out the Mountain Man quickly, but Cage would probably stop her before she could do anything. And then he’d start draining all of her friends.

No. Clarke has to do this.

So she takes a deep breath and steps out of her cage, stretching her legs for the first time in days, trying to block out the horrible sounds of Bellamy trying to convince her to change her mind. She is unsuccessful.

“Clarke, please,” he rasps, and as the Mountain Man takes her arm to lead her away, she looks back at Bellamy.

There are tears welling in his eyes, and his knuckles are pale as they’re wrapped around the bars. He’s begging her with his eyes now to stop, but she steels herself and tears her eyes away. Her breathing is shallow as she walks away from Bellamy and her cage and towards the spot with ropes hanging from the ceiling and Harper already dangling, unconscious. The cage seems welcoming now in comparison.

Clarke feels a sharp prick of a needle on her arm, and immediately she starts to feel woozy. The world fades to black as she slumps forward, and all she can think is, _I wonder if I’ll ever wake up again._


	12. We Need a Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ok. im sitting here updating this fic for the first time in over 2 years, and it's literally because of you guys who comment and give kudos even after i really just abandoned this. for a long time i didn't think i'd ever pick up this story again, but i'm really glad some kind people let me know they'd still be interested in more. so here we are. i'm really excited about this fic again and even though we're miles passed s2 now, i hope you guys can still enjoy the plot and the places the characters go in this story :) thank you thank you thank you to everyone who's still commenting on this because you're the only reason i'm even writing this right now. i love you all, and stay tuned for more

Clarke wakes up once right in the middle of being drained, and the pounding in her head is so intense that she can barely force her eyes open. A grunt of pain sneaks passed her lips and the pounding gets worse and worse the longer she’s awake. She has no idea how long she’s been hanging upside down, but she feels like it must be a long time. Her legs are completely numb—she doesn’t even know if she could move them if she tried—and she feels like she can’t catch her breath.

 _I could actually die up here_ , she thinks, and the honesty of the thought sends a spike of terror through her whole body. Her body doesn’t feel like it’s working quite right as she hangs upside down, with tubes full of stolen blood snaking down her limbs. There’s something about the way her head aches, and the way her eyes feel like they’re bulging slightly, and the way her pulse sounds in her ear, almost like she’s underwater, that tells her she won’t be able to stay up here much longer.

Clarke finally manages to force her eyes open when she hears Cage’s voice in her ear, whispering, “Wakey, wakey, Clarke. I’ve got something to show you.”

She blinks away the pain in her head a few more times before her eyes settle on the room in front of her: she’s still upside down and surrounded by cages of Grounders, but there’s movement to her side. She looks over to her right and watches as a few Mountain Men take Harper down from her bonds. For a split second she panics—did Cage wake her up just so she could watch Harper’s corpse get carted out of the room?—but then she notices the delicate way the men handle Harper’s body. They treat her like fragile cargo, not like a body they’re going to dispose of in the next few minutes. She’s alive.

Cage is back in her ear. “I just wanted you to see what your compliance has already done for your friends. If you and Bellamy hadn’t agreed to my terms, I’m not sure if we would have been as careful about keeping Harper alive.”

Clarke swallows, and she focuses back on the pain in her head. This is the price she’s paying to keep her friends alive. She’s saved Harper today, and all she had to do was endure a little pain. It will always be worth it.

She barely notices the pinprick that knocks her unconscious again.

*

Bellamy is going out of his mind with worry. He can’t shake the idea that it would be so much easier for Cage if Bellamy and Clarke were both dead—he wouldn’t have to waste all this energy trying to keep them quiet, and there would no longer be anyone capable of exposing him. So why are they still alive?

The darkest parts of Bellamy’s brain come alive while he sits aimlessly in the cage, just waiting for Clarke to come back. _They’re probably draining her dry right now_ , whispers the back of his mind. _When she’s dead, they’ll come for you next_. And there’s absolutely nothing he can do to take his mind off of it: everywhere he looks is just more proof that Cage is ruthless, cold, and willing to do anything to protect himself and the rest of Mount Weather. How could he and Clarke have been so stupid? They really thought they could take on whatever they found down here, just the two of them?

Bellamy tries to sleep to pass the time and escape his own fear for a while, but it’s impossible to turn off his brain and even harder to find a comfortable position in the cage. He gives strategizing a shot, but it only frustrates him more. Any way he looks at it, there’s no way he can get out of here without someone else getting hurt. But they can’t just let themselves die in here. And once they’re dead, who’s to say Cage won’t just start draining the rest of the delinquents anyways?

His head hurts.

But with nothing but time on his hands, a vague idea begins to form. The first thing they need to do is find a way to contact the other delinquents. If they could do that, maybe everyone else could figure out a way out of the Mountain. Then Bellamy and Clarke (and hopefully, Harper) could fight their way out without worrying about getting anyone else killed. And if they died trying, well, then, at least they died trying to save themselves.

Bellamy looks up when he hears footsteps. Cage is striding towards him, that smug grin comfortable on his face, and he taps the watch on his wrist. “Times up,” he says, and Bellamy’s throat constricts immediately.

 _Times up?_ What does that mean? Is he about to kill Clarke? Is Clarke already dead? Did he drain her dry? The questions pummel him, and he can’t catch his breath, and he’s thinking about how Clarke has been a constant presence since they got to the ground and that suddenly the cage beside him feels colder and emptier than it had just a few seconds ago.

The next few minutes are unbearable while Bellamy hovers in the space between knowing and not knowing for sure if Clarke is dead. He presses himself against the cage, trying to see around the other cages to the draining area, but it’s no use. Part of him says that he should look away, because he’s not going to want to see Clarke’s pale, lifeless body when Cage drags it by. But a bigger part of him says that he can’t look away, no matter what he’s about to see.

When Cage walks back into Bellamy’s line of vision, he’s trailed by two Mountain Men with Clarke held up, limp, between them. His heart surges briefly, then shrivels back up. She’s unresponsive, but she’s not in a body bag or in a wheelbarrow, which is the way he’s seen some drained Grounders carted out of the room. He’s afraid to hope, but he’s also afraid not to.

Bellamy notices Cage’s eyes fixed on him as the Mountain Men bring Clarke closer and closer, and even though every single molecule in him is clamoring to rage and pound against his cage and find a way to break the bars, Bellamy manages to restrain himself. He tears his eyes away from Clarke and stares Cage down for a moment, trying to tell him without words that he’s not going to lie down and die, and he’ll find a way to save everyone else, too, and even though Cage is out there and Bellamy’s stuck in here, it doesn’t mean Cage has won. The heat in Bellamy’s expression is enough to wipe the smirk off Cage’s face just before the Mountain Men start to open Clarke’s cage, and she groans softly.

“Clarke!” It comes out barely a whisper, but she still seems to stir at the sound of his voice.

The Mountain Men toss her unceremoniously into her cage and slam the door behind her and it locks with a pointed click, but Bellamy’s hardly paying attention to that anymore. He’s focused on Clarke, who’s starting to shift more and more, and her lips are moving like she’s trying to speak. He reaches a hand into her cage and brushes a lock of hair out of her eyes, and she leans up into his touch.

“Come on back to me, Clarke,” he tells her quietly, trying to keep the words between them and not let Cage hear, but Bellamy catches the way Cage’s eyebrow quirks up. He heard.

As Clarke starts to come to, Bellamy looks back up at Cage again, who looks somehow more vulnerable with his grin still gone, even as he stands with all the power behind him.

“I’ll be back for you tomorrow, Bellamy,” he says, and he waits for a reaction that Bellamy doesn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing. But when Cage has left, Bellamy looses out a strangled breath and looks down at Clarke, knowing he’ll be in her position soon. How are they supposed to plan some elaborate escape if they’re both like this after being drained?

A new layer of worry settles uncomfortably on his shoulders as he waits for Clarke to wake up.

*

“We need to be smart about this,” Finn says, his eyes landing on Monty and Miller as they gather in the dorms. “I think Bellamy and Clarke went looking for trouble, and that’s how they got caught.”

“What makes you say that?” Miller asks.

“The day before they went missing, Clarke and I were arguing about whether or not we can trust Wallace and the Mountain,” Finn explains. “Then Bellamy pulled her aside, and he sounded like he’d found something. I don’t know for sure. I walked away before I heard too much.” He looks down at his hands. “I thought they were just being paranoid.”

There’s a beat where no one knows what to say. Maybe if Finn had taken Clarke more seriously they wouldn’t have gotten themselves into trouble, or maybe if Finn had insisted he listened to what Bellamy needed to tell her, or maybe if he’d gone with them, or maybe, maybe, maybe. There was no point in obsessing what he could’ve done differently, but the thoughts are hard to push away for too long.

Finally, Monty breaks the silence. “So how are we supposed to be smart about this? If Bellamy and Clarke did get caught doing something they weren’t supposed to, how are we supposed to get away with it?”

Finn bites the inside of his cheek, and the question dangles in the air.

“If they did find something,” Miller pipes up, “you can bet your ass the Mountain will have tighter security now. It’ll probably be even harder for us to sneak around than it was for them.”

Monty’s eyes widen. Miller notices.

“What? Do you have an idea?”

“Maybe,” Monty says, and he taps his finger against his pant leg as he thinks something through. “I think you’re right, Nate. I don’t think we’ll be able to sneak around very easily.”

“Okay, so what else can we do?” Finn asks.

“I think we need someone who doesn’t need to sneak to help us.”

Miller tilts his head as he thinks, and Finn narrows his eyes.

“Who would we be able to trust with something like that?” Miller wonders aloud. He doesn’t sound quite convinced that it would work, but he doesn’t dismiss the idea, either.

This is where Monty starts to smile. “What if we asked Maya?”

“Maya?” Finn tries to place the name. “That girl who’s always hanging out with Jasper?”

“Yeah,” Monty says, but when Finn and Miller still remain skeptical, he rushes to explain. “I haven’t talked to her too much, but I have talked to Jasper, and he’s totally infatuated. Maybe, if we’re lucky, she’s just as obsessed with him as he is with her. Maybe—”

Finn interrupts him. “Do you really think she would like him and trust him enough to go digging for dirt on the people she’s lived with her entire life? She depends on the Mountain Men to live! Hell, she is a Mountain Man! Why would she be willing to throw away so much for someone she just met?”

Monty holds Finn’s gaze when he says, “I don’t know, Finn, but maybe you should ask Clarke or Raven what their take on that would be.”

Finn tries to say something, but he can’t find any words to say. Monty finally looks away when Finn’s face flushes, and Finn tries to ignore the smirk Miller is barely trying to hide.

“Okay,” Finn finally manages, “even if she did agree, what would we ask her to do? Just walk around the Mountain and look for anything suspicious?”

“No, I think we ask her to look for Bellamy and Clarke and Harper,” Monty says. “I’m pretty sure she knows what they all look like. She’s definitely talked to Harper, so she’ll be familiar with at least one of them for sure.”

Finn rubs his face with the heel of his palm and sighs. He can’t think of anything better. “What do you think, Miller?”

Miller crosses his arms. “I think it’s probably a lot smarter than if we tried to do it ourselves. Plus, the Mountain Men won’t be expecting one of their own to be working against them. They won’t be watching Maya as closely as they’re probably watching all of us.”

“It’s at least worth talking to Maya about,” Monty adds.

“What if we misjudge her, and she tells someone what we’re planning and we go missing next?” Finn growls, even though he doesn’t mean for it to come out like that.

Monty firmly stands his ground. “Better than doing nothing and waiting for them to take us, anyways. I never heard Harper sniffing around the Mountain Men, but she’s missing too.”

Finally, Finn relents, and the three of them head out to find Maya.

Predictably, she’s with Jasper. They’re in the common area, sitting extremely close together on a couch that’s more than spacious, and they don’t seem to notice Finn, Monty, and Miller approaching them until the three of them are right in their faces.

“Can I help you gentlemen with something?” Jasper asks, and the lightness in his voice sounds entirely genuine.

Monty steps forward. “We were wondering if we could talk to Maya, actually.”

Jasper turns to look at Maya, who furrows her eyebrows. She’s barely spoken four words to Finn and Miller, and she’s only talked to Monty a few times.

“What do you guys want?” she asks, apprehension sneaking into her voice.

“Yeah, what’s going on?” Jasper chimes in, and his voice has lost some of its levity.

Monty scans the crowd around them for eavesdroppers, but he doesn’t feel secure. “Could you meet us somewhere less…public?”

“Like where?”

They eventually decide on the lower level that Clarke and Monty had been wandering through that day the alarms went off. They hadn’t passed by any other people on their walk down there, except for Finn and Bellamy. When they’re all downstairs and Jasper and Maya are practically shaking from their curiosity, Monty, Miller, and Finn start to explain the situation.

Jasper interrupts when they bring up Harper. “Wait. Harper’s missing now, too?”

Miller nods. “She was gone when we woke up.”

Jasper runs his hand through his hair and starts to pace. “I had no idea,” he rasps, and everyone else can practically feel the guilt pouring off of him. He’d only been casually concerned when Bellamy and Clarke went missing, figuring they were off doing something stupid that would get them in trouble, but now Harper? Something definitely feels wrong.

Maya is gnawing on her lip so intensely that blood is starting to spring up. “What do you guys want me to do about this?”

Monty softens his voice. “How would you feel about trying to find them for us?”

“I—”

“Won’t that put her in danger?” Jasper crosses his arms. “We can’t ask her to risk herself for us.”

“We don’t know what else to do, Jasper,” Monty says, exhausted, but he turns his attention back to Maya. “It’s way more dangerous for us to snoop around than it is for you. You could really help us.”

Jasper’s already shaking his head. “It’s not fair.”

“It’s also not fair that this is happening to your people,” Maya insists, her voice strong. She looks up at Jasper and takes one of his hands in hers. “Thank you for being so concerned for me, but I want to help.”

“Just—” Jasper takes a breath. “Just be careful, okay?”

Maya tries to smile reassuringly. “Don’t worry. I know my way around here. I know how to be sneaky.”

“We’re really grateful, Maya,” Monty jumps in.

“Seriously, thank you,” Miller says, and Finn adds a similar sentiment.

“When should I start looking?” she asks.

Monty is solemn when he tells her, “As soon as you’re ready. I don’t think we have much time to waste.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading!! i couldn't be happier to be back here again, so i hope you enjoyed the chapter :) if anyone's interested, you can find me at [chaoticbellamy](http://chaoticbellamy.tumblr.com/)


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